


Of Lyrium and Stone

by jenaicompris



Series: Lovelorn [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, dagna deserves love too, fenris is god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 53,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenaicompris/pseuds/jenaicompris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dagna, after leaving the Ferelden Circle on a lark and then continuing on to Kirkwall after rumors of 'special' lyrium, finds herself in the company of a certain elf with certain adornments that makes her quite certain she's been missing something all her life. M for later chapters. Companion piece to Voices and Two Halves (to be posted later). I will prooobably be heavily editing this at some point. Cross post from fanfiction.net/~marvy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Having a serious inability to write anything lately, thought I'd move this on over here and see if I can start up my engine again. Hope you enjoy!

Several months ago, Dagna had lived a good life. A good, boring life swallowed up by the Stone and tradition and metals. With the assistance of the Wardens that had come to Orzammar, she had been able to fulfill her life-long dream of leaving to study at the Circle.

They had offered her the opportunity to do what she wanted, not what was expected of her. And she had taken it and run.

Well, not literally.

It had taken her some time to get to the Circle from Orzammar, via feet and wagons and more feet. But it was worth it. Even if the Circle was in various stages of disrepair from the onslaught earlier in the year, it was still brilliant.

Sure, no one really talked to her. Sure, everyone was either laughing at her or suspicious of what she meant to do. But it didn't matter. What did matter was that she was able to do it. What little time she didn't spend in the library, she spent doing menial tasks 'to earn her keep'. While the First Enchanter was more amused than anything by her presence, the Knight-Commander thought she should serve a purpose other than taking up space in a converted broom closet.

It was a cozy little room, with a cozy little cot, and walls lined with books that she borrowed, bartered for, or 'found'. It was not a hard life, nor an unfortunate one. For the most part, she was left alone to do her research.

After the first month or two, some of the mages would actually answer her questions. After a few more months, their interests in her waned and she had to revert back to the books, of which there were plenty. The templars had little-to-nothing to do with her, save for a curt nod or a sideways look when she bowed out of the line headed for the Chantry hall after dinner. Eventually they stopped doing that, too. There were so many things to read, so many things to study. One thing in particular caught her attention: Why? Why were mages born? Why were some more powerful than others? How does it work? Not being able to possess magic herself, it was quite the feat to discover an answer when few mages would give her the time of day.

She didn't think it was necessarily that they didn't like her; few, if any, were rude outright. They were, she decided, probably just scared. Which on one hand, she completely understood; templars, by their nature, were pretty imposing. She took it in stride, though; what was the worst they could do to her? Lock her in a cell? Give her a book, and she'd be fine.

After extensive research into the subject, Dagna decided that she would begin with lyrium. It seemed to have the most possibility of unlocking answers. The best place to start would be the beginning. Was lyrium the root of a mage's power? Was it in their blood? If so, wasn't it in hers, having been breathing it since before she was born? Why could they practice it, and she was practically immune? How much lyrium was too much? It took weeks of long nights to formulate a proper hypothesis on the matter, and even longer to gather all of the research she needed to back up her claims. Finally, perhaps a month or two after the news of the Archdemon's demise, Dagna could breathe.

"There," a smile curved her lips as she held up the paper, blowing on the ink and willing it to dry faster. "A Comprehensive Theory of Lyrium Vapors. Well, my dear Dagna, I think you might be on to something."

Once the title had dried, Dagna began to transcribe her work. Her original paper was covered in blotches and blacked-out words, mistakes, and revisions. This new one would be perfect; a reference.

One day, she would find a way to publish her theories.

One day she would discover something.

One day.

But for that day, in the wee hours of the morning, her work was finished. Her hand had cramped long ago, but she would not falter. She switched hands; the writing with her left hand was not as fluid as it was with her right and it took her a little longer to make sure that the letters were formed to her liking, but it gave her dominant one time to rest.

As the morning light crept up along the side of the Tower, Dagna settled her quill down and organized all of her papers so that each one would dry before she could stack them later in the day. In those moments, she wished she had someone to talk to. The lull between excitement and sleep, when all she had was the whispers of the Tower and the scuffle of feet outside her mostly-closed door.

With a small sigh, Dagna pulled a smile across her face as she leaned over her papers and gently blew out her lamplight. It didn't matter, though. Not really. Not one bit. Her work was done, and now she could rest.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of this came from a roleplay done with someone using the handle Iggy. Thank you for the inspiration and the parts that were entirely yours. Dagna's mine but bits of Fenris were...utilized. Only in this chapter.

The world was much larger than she had ever really thought. Certainly, she knew from books and maps that Thedas was truly expansive. After her stop in Amaranthine, Dagna decided to press forward to Kirkwall with the whisperings she had heard. Things she hadn't been meant to, of course.

Lyrium, Deep Roads, tension between mages and Templars. All of it was enough to peak her interest enough to leave solid ground.

The first few days on the ship were absolutely dreadful. Dagna had not been afraid to climb to the surface when she left Orzammar, just as she was not afraid of traveling on the open sea. She was curious, as she always was; but she was also terribly seasick. She wondered if it would ever end, the constant churning of her stomach. Halfway through her journey it seemed that the monsters in her stomach were settling and the cogs in her mind were turning.

She scribbled furiously on the deck by day and dozed occasionally in her tiny cabin when there was too little light to write. The rest of her sailing passed smoothly, leaving her feeling ever-more curious as her unsteady legs landed on the docks of Kirkwall.

The statues on the way into the harbor did not go unnoticed by Dagna and she made a mental note to research all about the city's history at her earliest convenience. For now, though, getting into the city was her biggest problem.

Being an unofficial apprentice to the mages in Kinlock Hold, it was only marginally difficult to get a letter from the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander that would allow her passage into the city. It actually was not at all as taxing as she had thought it might be; the city, while not excited to let in newcomers, was not so staunchly restricting immigration as it had the year previous. And Dagna was just visiting, of course.

Her stomach seemed to be as disagreeable when she landed as it had when she had first set sail, but she had no time for such frivolities. She had to introduce herself at the Circle and then find lodgings – she did not expect the Circle here to put up with her quite as easily as the one in Ferelden had. They did not feel as though they owed the Wardens anything in Kirkwall and they certainly did not owe her anything. It was a Stonesend that they were allowing her in at all. Knight-Captain Cullen seemed to recognize her, although only because the sight of a dwarf at a place of magic was so rare. Despite the Knight-Commander's slightly disagreeable attitude, she agreed to let Dagna into the libraries for a time each day. She would be watched by a Templar guard (although Dagna could not fathom why this was necessary, she did not disagree with the woman) but she would not be invited to the dining hall. The Chantry was located in Hightown, she was informed, if she so wished to attend services.

So Meredith wasn't particularly kind; she was giving Dagna what she wanted, and she thought she had enough coin to last a little while before having to return to Ferelden. Worst case scenario, she might be able to act as a scribe for someone in Kirkwall. People always needed a scribe. With the day spent making arrangements and reading through books until she was rather unceremoniously kicked out of the libraries by the Knight-Commander's watchdog, Dagna found herself back in the Gallows' Courtyard without a clue as to where she was going.

She had, for the most part, memorized maps of Kirkwall but this knowledge did her little good in the dark. She wandered rather aimlessly as the sun waved its final goodbye, trying to find a tavern that would let a not-rich dwarf into their midst. There was some consternation over a fellow named Varric and the Merchant's Guild, but Dagna knew little of such things. Realizing that she was not welcome in that part of town, the young dwarven woman that finally walked on slightly sturdier legs made her way towards what she thought was the entrance to a part of Kirkwall called Lowtown.

It was in those moments that she was set upon; Dagna had little-to-no experience with criminals of any sort, really. Her father had forbidden her to interact with those from Dust Town (not that they were the only criminals in Orzammar, or that all people from there were criminals) and she had, truth be told, lived a very secluded life even with that aside. She had realized, after months in Kinloch Hold, that it wasn't much far removed from the life she had previously lived. Certainly she had more freedom, but the walls of the Tower reminded her quite a lot of the walls of her home.

She held no particular dislike for either of them, but it had gotten to the point within her that she felt the need to more fully explore the world she had been put into. There was, of course, much to learn.

For example: how to appropriately deal with a small group of bandits.

"Oh..." Dagna breathed, eyes widening in the darkness as one of the men flashed the silver of a dagger. Dagna, not suited for fighting physically or in constitution, had no concept of what she might do. Her bag was heavy, but she wasn't confident in her ability to swing it accurately. "Well..sers...you see.. I don't have any coin." This was a lie, although she delivered it rather convincingly, trying quite hard to keep her small frame from shaking.

"That don't matter," said another of the three men. "She's good enough looking, for a dwarf."

"I just thought she was a kid," the third one spoke, snorting. "Can still think she is, I s'pose."

"You...you have problems," Dagna frowned, her eyes shifting to the one that had spoken last. This caused the two other men to laugh a little at her expense. However, the one at which they laughed was most definitely not amused. He came up on her, pushing his fellow out of the way, and wrapped a coarse hand around her delicate throat.

"You are gonna have a whole load of them, princess."

Apparently, back-talking wasn't a good idea.

The scuffle of the scene before him sounded familiar, the scenario a common one for impoverished places such as the lower reaches of Kirkwall – anywhere aside from Hightown, and even there occasionally. Fenris slowed his pace, pressing his back against the wall of the building where it was easy for him to listen without being seen until he wished to. He had been able to see enough before dodging into the shadows so that he had a decent handle on the situation. When he stole another glance, he could see his assumptions were accurate. Three humans were accosting a dwarven female, slivers of silver flashing in the moonlight.

Foolish, he thought as he took in the sight of the girl. She was obviously young, younger than either he or any of his companions. She carried a bag upon her, heavy and filled, but no weapons. She looked fed and she lacked that twitchy, unsettled stance that was so common amongst those who had sought solace in Kirkwall and had found themselves sorely disappointed. He had not seen her before, but that meant little; Fenris had little social contact outside of the Hawkes' group and his jobs as a mercenary. In short, she seemed an easy target for men who fed themselves on the misfortune of others.

Quietly Fenris listened in on the exchange, jaw tightening as the seconds went by until he could stand by no longer. Though he had been looking for slavers, for any hint that Danarius' influence had touched Kirkwall, he had an itch to scratch and these thugs would serve his purpose. Just as one of the thief's hands shot out to take hold of the dwarf's neck, Fenris stepped from his hiding spot.

Near-silently the elf rounded the corner, leaving his hiding place. He looked the group over with a hardened expression, although it was apparently lost on them.

Although Dagna was gasping for breath against the pressure on her neck, her eyes were drawn immediately to the man that approached from the darkness. She had enough experience with elves in the Circle to recognize that he was one, and also that he was not one to be trifled with.

Even at such a distance, it was easy to make out the massive weapon that lay against his back.

"Move along," jeered one of them, eyeing Fenris' odd appearance with both interest and alarm.

_Oh please, ancestors, don't let him leave me here._

"Ain't the Alienage closed by now?"

Dagna was not familiar with this concept, but she noticed by his response that it was meant to be an insult.

The men that meant to attack her broke into snickers, save for the one whose attention was still fixed intently upon Dagna. Fenris did not aside from the flexing of his right hand, which Dagna noticed with interest despite her predicament.

The two idle thieves exchanged glances, now clearly unsettled – especially considering the massive sword across the elf's back. The one who had addressed him spoke again, voice purposefully hardened this time.

"Did you hear me, knife ears?  _Move_."

As if he was going to comply, Fenris began to walk past. Dagna's mind pleaded with him to stay, concerned what it would mean for her if he did not.

Without a word he brushed passed the first man and then, suddenly, the tattoos down the length of his arm flared to life. Dagna watched, wide-eyed with the man's hand still around her throat. She could breathe, if barely.

The lines on the elf's body came to life, a gentle glow in the darkness. The light illuminated her savior, accentuating his dark skin and giving her a better idea of what he looked like. It had to be magic, she thought.

Apparently she wasn't the only one struck by it for, with a yelp of surprise, the closest man to Fenris stumbled back. "What the f-" began to tumble from the man's mouth, but he was cut short when Fenris hand slid through the man's chest, causing him to fall to his knees, gasping in pain. Blood dribbled down his chin, splashing against the dirty stones of Lowtown's street. He was dead within moments, though made noises of pain until his last breath left him.

Dagna felt sorry for them, almost; they were far out-classed from the first.

The second man had better sense, was quicker to react than his two counterparts. Taking a step backward—then another and another— the thief turned and broke into a clumsy run, tripping over himself as he did so. The only one that remained, perhaps petrified from both confusion and fear, was the one with his hand still tightly clasped against the dwarf's neck. The elf moved effortlessly despite the large sword upon his back, each step easily avoiding the droplets of blood that had spilled to the ground. Without so much as a flinch, he stepped over the fallen thief's shuddering body, eyes fixated upon the remaining man with what could be mistaken as an almost predatory glint. However, he was calm—incredibly so—an air of grace around him that would have left Dagna speechless, if the hand around her throat wasn't already doing a good job of it.

"I see only one problem here." Fenris spoke without much inflection as he approached, voice deep and level even as the most vicious of glares settled upon the panicking thief. The thief had loosened his grip upon the dwarf's neck, though only to replace it with his other hand as he used the original to reach for the handle of a knife he kept in a sheath at his hip. Wrapping his arm around her neck instead, the would-be rapist jerked Dagna to his body and moved his arm to hold her tight across the chest between himself and the vigilante.

Fenris stopped, looking upon the man so coldly Dagna shuddered. His brow knitted together in simmering anger and, although Dagna believed it wasn't entirely for her, she was thankful that he was helping her at all.

Gripping the handle so hard that his knuckles began to whiten to bone, the thief brandished it at the elf, a furrowed brow and full beard masking fear that had already caused sweat to bead upon his face. With a jerk of his head, he shot a look down at the girl, as if to assess if taking her as hostage would increase his chances of survival. Perhaps, he thought, if she was another human. However, her stature forced him to stoop towards the ground, making him unable to defend himself whilst keeping a hold around her torso. Indecision playing upon the human's features, Fenris saw no need to wait. The elf raised up his right hand in front of him, tendrils of blue wisps radiating down from his arm down to his armored fingertips.

It was with that image in front of him that the realization of the severity of the situation shone clearly in the man's face. With gritted teeth the thief suddenly relinquished his hold of the girl, shoving her forward at Fenris before he staggered into a sprint as he fled, leaving his fallen companion behind without so much as a backwards look.

Fenris caught her easily, the glow disappearing as quickly as it had come as to cause no harm to the foolish dwarf.

Feeling no need to give chase, Fenris made a disdainful noise, low in the back of his throat, as he watched the man disappear around the corner.

"And then there were none." he drawled quietly, his body loosening and the lines of lyrium fading just a little with the threats all taken care of.

She was familiar enough with lyrium to recognize it, even if she couldn't hear the hum that others had tried to explain to her. She thought she could imagine it in those moments, watching the man move fluidly with the markings highlighting his movements. She could very well have been dying; she knew somehow, that she wouldn't however. This man, this elf, this lyrium-laced god – he would not harm her, she didn't think. He was saving her at that moment, for whatever reason, and giving her an entirely different thesis to work out in her head. Surely it couldn't be natural; nothing like that was even fathomable. But then, how? Because he was an elf, she imagined, that it wasn't something he had chosen either. She could be wrong; it happened sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes. And then, practically, as soon it the whole debacle had begun, it was over.

Still, the ornate markings seemed to glow, the white always a contrast against his darker skin. He took in a small breath, exhaling quickly. There was always a stale thickness about the air of Lowtown, something that Dagna too had noticed. It was no doubt because of the overcrowded amount of bodies, clamoring for space amidst citizens and refugees alike that they had both seen, Dagna for the first time that day.

It was partially this that forced men like these thieves to prey off others to survive. It was still no excuse, especially not one for what they were proposing to do to the girl. Their words had been enough. He knew the thoughts that had been coursing through their minds. He would not allow it. Dagna was indescribably grateful for that.

Remembering he was not alone, Fenris brought his attention back to the unfortunate girl. Impassively, he looked upon the dwarf, seemingly studying her as she brushed dirt from her clothes and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, having picked up what few contents had been spilled after being tossed at her savior.

Fenris was struck by the out of place smile on her face and believed that he had, apparently, not frightened her.

Without a sound, the elf turned, intending on being on his way. "If you are unhurt, I suggest you find shelter." Fenris told her, his voice low and smooth as velvet. Dagna was caught off-guard by the sound of it, different than the gravelly anger that had laced it previously. "No doubt there are more men skulking the dark with similar motive." The elf before her spoke as the light dimmed from the lines on his skin, a sentence that Dagna found funnier than she should have, considering.

One man dead, two run away, bruises slowly forming under her skin. Dagna could have cried for the brilliance of it all. The  _excitement_. It was an odd feeling, being so alive when you have been so close to death.

"You are incredible," she spoke quietly, breathlessly, as she propelled herself in his direction, content to follow him even as his pace did not slow. She stopped short of him and lifted a hand, the intent obvious. She stopped her fingers short of reaching him, though, and blushed furiously in the dark as she dropped her arm to her side.

It was obvious to Dagna that he cared not for her comments about him, whether it was in regards to his appearance or his prowess. The tightening of his jaw made it quite obvious.

A frown stole across Dagna's features as she watched the elf's face change in response to her. Well, he  _was_  incredible.

" I mean..thank you, ser. My bruising is minor," she spoke as if she had not just been about to completely overstep her boundaries. "Which is entirely thanks to you, for coming when you did. I do not have much coin to offer...but..."

Her fingers itched to touch him and she couldn't pull her gaze away. 'Incredible' didn't quite scratch the surface, but she wasn't about to say anything more. She had enough presence of mind, thank the ancestors, that she could keep herself from saying anything too terribly mortifying. If she didn't intend to keep talking to him, to try and convince him to keep her company for at least a little while, she might have actually let her skin meet his. And if she believed that flattery would do her any good, she would express everything that she was thinking. Most of which was wholly inappropriate.

As she approached him, arm outstretched, Fenris stiffened, though before he could move out of her reach she stopped herself, for which he was thankful. He did not miss the way her eyes slid over him, following the lines of the lyrium curling downward upon his flesh. His mouth tightened, lips thinning. He felt as if he was being apprised of his value, even as he knew her fascination and awe was most likely because of his assumedly foreign appearance rather than anything else. The elf said nothing towards her statements of thanks, the words fumbling from her mouth. What he had done had not been for monetary gain, nor for gratitude, and certainly not for companionship.

Dagna paused and toyed aimlessly with the flap of her satchel, not trying to hide the way her eyes slid over his body or the white that curved along it. She understood little of appropriate interactions, aside from the fact that he no longer wished her to comment on how amazing she thought he was.

The fact that the girl was still here was of slight annoyance to Fenris, troubling. Social contact was limited and, from the standpoint of a man who still looked over his shoulder in apprehension, that was how it should be. He kept his pace, feeling no need to accommodate himself to the dwarf's considerably shorter strides. Dagna would not be so easily dismissed, however, and took up a faster pace.

"Keep your coin." He told her dismissively, sparing no look towards the girl now on his heels. "I do not require compensation."

"I…I am visiting this city and the taverns in Hightown seem to think I have something to do with this Verix? Farris?...Varric, this character named Varric and something called the Merchant's Guild. They wouldn't give me the time of day and now I'm looking for...The Hanged Man, I believe. If you are the type that is inclined towards alcohol, I would offer you a pint for your time if you could be bothered to show me where it is. If you are not... I do not know the quality of food at this Hanged Man place, but I might be able to offer you something that hopefully resembles stew."

Each of his steps was careful and silent, his bare feet allowing him to walk more subtly than those who relied on shoes. He meant to lose her, to suddenly disappear around the next corner and melt away into the shadows. As harmless as she may have been, there was no need for him to take any risk of otherwise. Well-meaning as she seemed to be, Fenris had no intention of idly drinking and dining with a person he had happened upon during an evening in Lowtown. He was too cautious for that, too untrusting. His nature—his past—would not allow him to be otherwise. A familiar name caused him pause, however, as her prattling came to an end.

Abruptly, Fenris stopped, sparing his first backwards glance since making his initial move to leave. Though the elf's face was still drawn, neutral, there was the barest of hints in the line of his mouth that said that something had finally resonated within him. "You have business with Varric?" His tone was sharper than he intended, the drawl of his accent and characteristic curl of his mouth only serving to emphasize that harshness. Realizing this, he averted his gaze almost immediately, muttering something, low and inaudible, under his breath. With the dwarf's languid demeanor and leaning tendencies towards the spinning of wild, imaginative stories, it was easy to forget that he was one of the most connected of surface dwarves, a master of connections within the city of Kirkwall. With the disappearance of his brother, Batrand, the man had no doubt had to fill in his shoes. More and more surface dwarves were turning to Varric in his brother's absence. This girl might be one of them. Fenris exhaled, a small breath he did not realize he had been holding. He turned, just as he had when intending to leave the dwarf to her own devices. This time, however, he gave her permission to follow in the form of a dry, curt statement. "…Very well, follow me if you must." This time his strides were slower, deliberately so. His posture, however, remained stiff and guarded, on edge as he always was. There was never a time to lower his defenses, even in the presence of someone as…bookish. He would take her to her destination, a favor to the dwarf who had used his network of connections more than once to aid him in his plight. Then, he would leave. The Hanged Man was close enough, the tavern sure to be boisterous by this time of night. There would be less risk.

She wanted to ask him how and why and what, but she did not dare.

Dagna had been trying frantically to keep up with his longer-legged pace and so, when he stopped, she nearly barreled into him as she skidded to a halt. Her eyes moved across his features but did not stray from his face; she wished that people were as easy to read as books. Obviously he was not happy about meeting her or helping her, but the fact remained that he was. Helping her, that is.

What could she do to convince him she was harmless? That she was good and kind, and she just wanted answers to her questions. Would he be interested in her research? Would that help? She looked flustered a moment, as he spoke about the Varric character again. She had two options, really; she could be honest with him and tell him that no, she didn't know Varric and she didn't truly have any business with him. This would leave her alone and in the dark, mostly unaware of where she was in a city she was unfamiliar with.

Alternatively, she could stretch the truth. Certainly it was plausible that this Varric person could answer some questions. Who knew what he was involved with? Varric was, from what little she had been able to ascertain between being thrown out of the Hightown pubs, was another dwarf that was not in well with an operation called The Merchants' Guild. Another dwarf's opinion on magic would suit her. And some dwarves felt camaraderie based on their race; perhaps he would help her.

So, yes. She did have business with Varric."Thank you, again," she spoke quietly from behind him, trying to walk fast enough to keep pace. She was quite glad when he slowed a little. She did not quite manage to walk beside him, a step or two behind and to the side. "For everything. I am sorry for staring, ser. I am not very good with people, and I have never met someone like you before. Truth be told, I have never seen someone with a sword so large either. My father, he is a smith, but dwarves rarely wield such weapons. You must be incredibly strong. I wonder what that is like. Sometimes I struggle with larger tomes."

She was rambling; when she spoke, she often did. Blush rose in her cheeks and she mumbled another apology, falling into silence as they continued towards the Hanged Man tavern.

Books were so much easier.


	3. Chapter 3

Though it seemed he was being dismissive, eyes kept firmly ahead, her tangled sentences did not escape him. Her ramblings and somewhat naïve demeanor reminded him vaguely of Merrill, though the dwarf's lack of enthusiasm for the arcane arts boded better in the mind of the disgruntled elf. Though his mood was not completely soured, he was certainly not pleased by the predicament that he was now entrenched in. Still not too keen on social visits from some of the people he most regularly saw, being followed by a complete unknown was something that he enjoyed with even less enthusiasm. The dwarf seemed harmless—but he knew not to judge solely by appearance.

As the girl faded into apology, Fenris chose that moment to speak. His voice rumbled from the depths of his throat, each word thick with his accent. "Do not apologize when you have nothing to apologize for." It was up to interpretation if he said that out of kindness. Nevertheless, that was the only thing he said. The rest of the way he spent in silence. It did not take long for the familiar building to come into his line of sight, the smell of booze and the sound of rambunctious laughter indicating he was coming close far before he actually saw it. The building walls were slightly yellow, just as the majority of structures in Lowtown were. The only tavern in Kirkwall, it attracted a wide variety of sorts. It also happened to be one of the places that Fenris frequented—as much as 'frequented' could mean to a man as secluded as himself. He reached for the door, holding it open to allow the dwarf to enter first. "This is the Hanged Man." he told her upon stepping into the tavern, the floorboards warm and worn underneath his feet. It was lively as usual, a man or two passed out with their grips still tight upon their mugs. Isabela was absent from her usual corner, the population of females dismally small. A group of men had broken out several decks of cards and were now playing a game of Wicked Grace, the loser of the round forced to remove an article of clothing. Thankfully, they had seemed to have just started to implement the rule, and the elf averted his gaze in mild disgust. "The stench is something you will most likely never get used to."

Dagna was shocked, to say the least, when the elf held the door for her. It was, she thought as she reflected on the subject, the first time that anyone ever had done such a thing. It made her smile, just a little, as they stepped in.

And then the smell hit her. He was not lying when he said it was something she probably wouldn't get used to. She couldn't imagine ever being comfortable in the stench. Perhaps stench was a strong – no, no, that was exactly what it should be called.

Fenris moved deeper into the establishment with unhesitating strides, taking no unnecessary step as he made his way past the boisterous crowd and into the hall where the rooms to be rented were located. The first door to the right was the tavern's only suite, the residence of only one man for the past few years. The door was thrown wide open and Fenris did not bother to knock as he entered. He only went as far as the interior of the door frame, standing right to its side, leaving room for the dwarven girl to enter after him. Underneath the light of candles and the warmth of a crackling fire, the lyrium lining Fenris' body lit, ablaze, in a strange sort of splendor. Any beauty in the phenomenon was lost upon the elf, however. They served to only be a reminder of the man who had carved them across his being.

With an obvious look of disapproval, the elf addressed the merchant prince. "Dwarf," Fenris greeted flatly, arms going to fold against his chest, "I believe I have found someone of interest to you." He knew naught of the girl's name; he had not thought to ask for it.

Varric was rarely alone; he preferred not to be, most of the time. Typically he would either have visitors, or he would seek out companionship from someone. Even the possibly insane man that walked around the Hanged Man, talking mostly to himself, was better than an empty room. Silence left too much room to think.

Fortunately for the dwarf, he did not have much time alone that evening. He had spent most of the day beating the men on the first floor of the tavern at various card games. (Cheat? Him? Never!)

Hardly an hour after excusing himself, buried in papers and ink at his table with a mug beside him, a familiar shadow clouded his doorway.

And one not so familiar

Fenris saw the look that Varric gave him, the dwarf's eyes sliding over the taller form of the elf and, then, the smaller of the girl. Fenris gave him a look of warning, the non-verbal equivalent of a sharply said command to make no comment.  _Make no comment whatsoever_. In truth, the dwarf needed no words; that smirk of his said it all. This was probably the highlight of Varric's evening, him showing up with a young female dwarf in tow. Fenris had a feeling the dwarf was weaving an outrageous story in his head already. No doubt, the rest of twins' companions would be hearing a false variation of this tale the next day. Fenris growled a little under his breath at the thought of it. Perhaps he would refrain from leaving the mansion tomorrow.

Varric couldn't help it when he saw the pair of them. The look on the elf's face - paired with that on the dwarf girl's - was absolutely priceless. A grin spread slowly across Varric's face as he settled his pen and papers, sitting back in his chair and looking up at them. "You know Bianca is the only girl for me...unless...Did you bring your girlfriend by to meet the family, Fenris?" He chuckled boisterously, already beyond prepared for the death glare he was likely to receive. It did not help to end the chuckles drifting out of him as he pushed back from his table and moved over to the two of them. He touched Bianca's smooth surface as he passed her by, settled delicately atop a blanket in a chair beside his own. It was then that he noticed that Dagna carried no weapons – how odd.

When Varric spoke, his voice boisterous and warm as usual, Fenris gave the dwarf a withering look. "No." he refuted flatly, sparing no further thought to the notion. He knew it was Varric's way and Fenris was in no mood to engage in further banter—perhaps if he was he would have made a scathing comment about the dwarf's lovely Bianca.

Dagna was awestruck. It was not an often occurrence but it most certainly was happening then. The exchange between the two, obviously 'friends' after a fashion, left her whole body humming with an all-encompassing blush. She thought, perhaps, even her toes were red within her well-worn boots.

This Varric character was an odd one; first and foremost, Dagna noticed that he lacked a beard - directly after which she discovered what he lacked in facial hair, he made up for in chest hair. It was almost mesmerizing in the near-absurdity of it. Well, it would have been if she wasn't quite so distracted by the goings-on of the whole situation.

Fenris. That's what the other dwarf had called him, right? He looked like he intended to leave.

"Come in, would you? No point in standing in the doorway like you're holding up the place. Although it might need your help after too long." Varric paused, still grinning. "Now. The Elf says that you're of interest to me. How might that be, little one?"

The irony of calling anyone 'little' was not lost on the man that was much shorter than the lyrium-laced elf, although it was not a lie. Dagna was petite in addition to being shorter than most female dwarves. A runt, perhaps. She didn't look particularly familiar, and he was rather certain he would remember hair like that, like a horizon set on fire by the sun.

She looked off; not like someone that belonged in the Hanged Man, let alone someone that belonged in the company of Fenris. He noticed how uncomfortable she looked, but still resolute – as if she had no intention of coming to Varric, but somehow now needed him. One thing could be said about the blond dwarf – he was often good with people. Especially reading them.

As the man ushered the two of them in, Fenris stood unmoving, steadfast in his place by the door with his arms folded against his chest. He had no intention of venturing further into the room and to further accent that notion, he made move to leave. Let the two dwarves attend to their business, of whatever nature it was. Fenris had—and wanted—no part in it. He took a resolute step towards the door.

So Varric would take a new tact. Moving over, he carelessly draped an arm across Dagna's shoulders and pulled her along towards the table before depositing her in a chair across from Bianca. "Oh, I remember now! Come, sit. Fenris, join us. I've got news for you, at any rate. There's plenty of ale to be had, you can even order some wine if you're feeling fancy."

Varric was talking to her. Feigning knowledge of her for her sake. Perhaps she was a book to him. She thought, maybe, she loved him in that moment. With her blush subsiding, she found space to smile. When he draped his arm around her, she nearly jumped. Other than being accosted some time before in that same evening, she couldn't rightly remember the last time someone had touched her.

Varric very nearly could have died from the laughter he held in at the death glare he received from Fenris leading up and in response to his good-natured joke. He had to admit, the elf was almost as much fun to irritate as the Guard Captain that be her nickname? No, no - too simple. Moving on.

While he was distracted, he noticed that Fenris was trying to make an exit. "Oh, come on Broody, you know you want a drink."

Fenris narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man's insistence that he stay. Though sure enough that the man meant him no harm, humiliation or entertainment at his expense on the other hand…Still, the elf begrudgingly took a seat at the man's insistence, the closest one to the door.

Settling into a chair, Dagna watched as Fenris caved and took up the farther seat and spoke.

"As long as it's your coin." Fenris told him, eyeing the man humorlessly. The dwarf had known him for a little over two years, however, long enough to notice the slight shift in his tone of his voice. Fenris was joking—half joking, anyway. "Talk." he said, both hands resting upon his legs. In Fenris' low and gravelly baritone, it may have come across more as an order. He eyed the man. "It is your specialty, is it not."

He frowned rather imperceptibly but allowed himself another smile when the elf took up a seat.

"Isn't it always?" He laughed a little, no frustration in his voice. It was a rather accepted fact that Varric paid for drinks - unless he somehow managed to finagle either of the Hawkes into it, which happened only when Varric beat Cedric or Bea at Wicked Grace or any of the other various gambling endeavors the dwarf convinced them into. Which, when they played, he often did win. Unless Rivaini played too, which...well, there was no accounting for that. Varric could cheat, but Isabela did it with style.

Again, Varric let out a chuckle when he was directed to talk.

Dagna, the odd dwarf that she was, had never had so much as a drop of ale before. She found herself quite interested in what the draw was and so readily accepted the mug put before her.

The look on her face when she sipped the ale nearly had Varric doubling over with laughter.

"Don't tell me you've never had ale before, little one. A dwarf that doesn't drink!"

With two sets of expectant eyes watching her, she cleared her throat and offered a weak smile.

"I suppose first I should tell you my name is Dagna. I've come from the Circle in Ferelden. Well, Orzammar - the daughter of a smith and quite obviously not built for such a thing, but that isn't what you want to know. I then found myself at the Circle, followed by Amaranthine. And now here. I am working on a thesis about lyrium and magic and-" she stopped to take a breath, blushing yet again. "...and I heard about the Circle here." She paused again, though this time it was to survey the other two in the room. She had been staring most intently at her hands while she spoke, though she knew enough about the next subject to know whom she was talking with. "And, though I cannot tell you how I know, I was also informed of some sort of discovery of raw lyrium. It interests me, for my research purposes." This next part, it was a total guess. She felt as though she was grasping at straws, but she needed to find some reason to feign her connection with this other dwarf other than their shared race. "I believe you may be the one to ask about such a matter. I apologize for the inconvenience of dropping in on you like this, but...I didn't actually know where to find you. If it wasn't for..." She glanced over at the elf, frowning a little, as if asking for permission to use his name. "...Fenris, I doubt I would have made it this far."

Her words surprised Varric - something that happened rather rarely these days. A dwarf, studying magic? That could make for a rather lovely story. She was just one tiny ball of oddities, wasn't she? It wasn't until she mentioned the lyrium idol that he really began to pay attention.

How could she possibly know about that? This girl had to have connections - she didn't seem the type to know many spies. He didn't think she was a Grey Warden - wouldn't she have just told them?

He decided, for the moment, that the how was slightly unimportant. She knew and that was really the crux of the problem. Should he tell the twins? He should probably tell them.

Raising an eyebrow at Fenris, he remained quiet for a moment before looking back to Dagna. "Well, as far as the Circle goes, I don't know that I can be much help. A friend of a friend might be able to, but I can't promise anything. I'm assuming with your ties in Ferelden, though, that isn't why you were looking for me." Varric knew that she hadn't been, but he also knew that Fenris thought she had - he would follow through with the ruse. It wasn't harming the elf, not really.

"The raw lyrium, though..." Varric made a face. "About as much as I can tell you is that I honestly don't know where it is. We did, but..." He shrugged, hiding the dark look that threatened to pass across his features. That damnedable brother of his. "..It's..disappeared due to some unfortunate circumstances, for the time being."

It was in that moment that he realized he had to come up with something to tell Fenris because he had, after all, told the elf he had news.

Nug droppings.

Fenris tensed as soon as the mention of raw lyrium came, lingering in the air like an uncomfortable noose hanging above the lot of them. The elf returned Varric's sidelong glance with one of his own, lips fastening into a thinner, straighter line. He was certain the same questions were coursing through the man's mind. Her knowledge was alarming, but how exactly the girl had gotten wind of the raw lyrium in the first place caused the elf the most unease. Even in his suspicion and paranoia of all things magical, however, a layer of concern within Fenris' mind was reserved for the man he had grown to know.

This girl's—Dagna's—awareness of the blasted thing's existence could most likely be traced back to the man who had betrayed not only the twins, but his own flesh and blood as well. Bartrand's traitorous actions were simply another example of the evils that magic could draw from a person, could twist their intentions and cause corruption. Now that the lyrium was unleashed upon the entirety of Thedas, Fenris could only hope that Varric would hear word of his brother soon, before its influence could spread to ruin the lives of even more. He shook his head just as the dwarven male trailed off, eyes lowered and fastened upon the contents of his cup. The words that rumbled from his throat echoed the sentiments that he thought within his head. "It should have never surfaced." he insisted, voice husky and accented with intonation. It was said as much to Dagna as for himself and Varric. For a single moment he fastened his eyes upon the girl, staring meaningfully at her with a dark expression. "Nothing good can come from it."

It was true that the lyrium idol was probably going to do everyone more harm than good; he would be lying if he said he disagreed with what Fenris had said. Something about the girl made him think that she would be the lesser of all evils, given the opportunity to see it. He thought, maybe, after he killed Bartrand, he'd see if the twins would mind giving her a piece. What fun is there in always playing it safe? What could she really do with it, anyway?

Fortunately for Varric, this red-haired dwarf offered him something to say. There was something about her that seemed familiar enough to base elaborate lies upon. Besides, the elf would forgive him – eventually – if he was wrong. Everyone did.

The long pause that followed indicated to Fenris that there was something quite wrong in the air, as a Varric that had trouble grasping for words was not…Varric at all. The elf was certainly not dense, and he was beginning to understand that the man's entire excuse for keeping him here was, more or less, a gigantic scam. For what, exactly, he was unsure of, but it was most likely for his own amusement than a reason of tangible substance. Fenris shot a glance the man's way, brows knitting together for a moment as a certain expression came over his face.

Dwarf.

That was all it said, though the hardness in his eyes accented it with the most irritable and seething of tones. Fenris settled back in his chair, bringing the mug to his face with an annoyed scoff.

So the dwarf had lied to him.

He would not be forgetting this for some time. And neither would Varric—he would make sure of it. Placing his mug upon the polished wooden table, the elf stood. "Varric," he began flatly, eyes boring into the other man, "A word." He indicated towards the door, a brooding expression upon his face.

With an apologetic smile to Dagna, Varric followed Fenris' movements and removed himself from the table. "Broody needs a moment, if you'll excuse us..." He spoke with a small chuckle in his voice, following Fenris towards the door before stepping towards the wall.

The door remained cracked ever so slightly as he leaned against the wooden paneling, looking up towards the white-haired individual with whom he was about to exchange extravagant tales.

"Listen, Fenris – this girl, she's onto something. I know, I know – magic is evil, nothing good can come if it, yaddayaddayadda...but just hear me out, all right? I don't know much about her, but I know enough to know that she is your best bet for getting those memories back. She isn't a mage and it would take some sort of backwards miracle to turn her into an abomination. She's smart as a whip and she has connections with information about magic. The worst thing you'll have to worry about from her is those puppy-dog eyes, and I doubt she even knows she's doing it."

Varric paused, raising an eyebrow at his companion. Most of what he said was true, although he had no way to prove the veracity of it for he thought he was grasping at straws. "At best, she will be able to discover what took your memory or away, or at least if it is related to those markings. At worst, she wastes her time researching for a man that saved her life. What have you really got to lose in all of this? A few days' worth of time, when it's all said and done? I think you'd be a fool to let this opportunity pass you up. And I promise to always pick up the tab," he added the last sentence with a grin.

Okay, maybe fool wasn't the best choice of words, but it was true. In all honesty, anything that could help Fenris be a little less broody would be stupid to let pass by. He felt confident enough in his assertion of the girl not to worry that the elf would do his rather handy fist-trick on either dwarf in his company and so, when he said his piece, he steadied his gaze on that of Fenris."Well?"

The proof of Fenris' opinion was the aforementioned journey into the depths, that unveiled the idol that the comely little Dagna was inquiring about. Fenris did not dislike Varric, and he did not quite know Dagna well enough to have formed an opinion about her, other than his opinion regarding her clear fascination for the magical. He didn't have to speak that aloud, as Varric was already plainly aware of it. He folded his arms across his chest when Varric paused for a breath, and said nothing, which the Dwarf took as permission to continue with another torrent.

"Look, Fenris, I'm not trying to tell you what to do – but at least think about it. It can't hurt, can it?"

Sure, Fenris was broody and could respond with 'you don't know that' or some such other nonsense, but Varric was a big fan of the girl from the moment she walked in. Maybe it was the naïveté that reminded him of someone else, or the camaraderie of race. Or something about the color of her hair.

It didn't matter, not really. Varric couldn't force Fenris into anything, but he would bug the poor man until he gave in or killed one of them.

One dark eyebrow, always a contrast with his white hair, shot up at the word 'fool' in Varric's discourse, and his clear green eyes, always hard but at least somewhat amused in Varric's company, were not just leady green cement walls. He was quiet for a moment again, parsing out Varric's excessive patter, and then growled. He summed up his agreement and his opinion on the matter in one deep, resonant word. "Fine." Fenris looked down at Varric without leaning over, "But do not take me for a fool. Dagna can no more help me with my memory than you can, but she might be able to run down your Brother and that Idol."

Fenris eyed Varric, and his mouth quirked into a sardonic half-smile, "But I am curious, from your perspective, how can Dagna assist me?" He knew that Varric had spun this tale to back up his reason for asking Fenris to stay in the first place, but now that he had gone through the trouble of contriving the story, why should Fenris let him off the hook? "Do explain."

"You just let her do her magic, so to speak, and I will do mine," Varric responded with a chuckle, gesturing back towards the door that would lead them to their seats.

"She knows as much about magic as most mages do, I reckon – at least the ones in the Circle. Given enough time to research, it would be hard to stop her from finding the truth. And as for my brother..."

Varric's features darkened a moment and he could have been mistaken for Broody between the two of them as he thought his bastard of a brother.

To leave them down there to die – what kind of rotten, scumbag, nugsucker would do such a thing?

Bertrand, that's who.

He turned back to Fenris, though, at the last moment. He didn't know anything about this Dagna girl, except what he had experienced since she had walked through his door with the elf in tow. But he assumed a lot. And he gleaned some, too. And even if he was wrong – which, how often was he? (Aside from that backstabbing, nughumping brother of his, of course.) - even if he was wrong, what harm could it possibly cause? It wasn't like Broody did much when he wasn't with out with either or both of the twins anyway. Maybe he'd make a friend.

Varric almost laughed out loud at the idea. Instead, though, he just smiled charmingly at his friend and patted him once, lightly, on the shoulder. "Trust me, would you? This girl is a scholar of magic and lyrium – but she has no magic, so she can't be a harm to you unless you find her terribly annoying. Aside from actually being able to perform whatever needs to be done to fix your... _situation_ , she is just as likely as anyone to discover the cause and the cure as removed from the practice as she is."

Varric chose not to mention the fact that Dagna could research blood magic without practicing it – as that was more than likely the root cause of Fenris' lyrium brands, that avenue would be the most beneficial. Fenris was a smart man, he could figure it out. Varric didn't relish in the idea of mentioning the phrase in the elf's presence.

The girl, who had been slowly sipping her ale despite the bitter taste, waited patiently in the chair that Varric had offered her upon arriving. She heard bits and pieces of the conversation and her face was colored with blush when the men returned, which was easily mistaken as being caused by the drink in her mug. She had heard enough, at least, to know that Varric was trying to help her get to know Fenris. Something about his lyrium lines, which fascinated her beyond measure. And his memories – something she knew nothing about.

She also knew, much to her delight, that the elf had agreed. She was almost giddy with the thought of it when they returned.

The male dwarf seemed to share her excitement, although the elf looked only slightly more at ease than he had when the two had left the room.

"We shall start tomorrow," Fenris spoke resolutely as he lifted his mug, eyes sliding sideways to look at the red-headed dwarf for a reaction.

She really did look like a child, sitting in that chair with the large mug in her tiny hands. He imagined he would have to protect her on some level, especially in Lowtown. The thought made him grimace, but he tried not to let it show.

"You can stay here for the night, little one," Varric offered, gesturing to the space around them. "I've an extra bedroom for when one of the friends wants to crash."

It was true; Fenris had used the bed at least three times and he knew, too, that the twins' cousin had been using it before they had gotten her settled at their Hightown home. Another mage.

"Thank you very much; I have a little money I can give you for it."

"No need, no need. Any friend of Broody's is a friend of mine," Varric grinned, glancing at the elf, who snorted derisively but said nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they spend time together.

At first, Fenris thought that there had to be something wrong with Dagna. She seemed so far removed from anyone he had ever met; even Hawke's cousin Beatrice (it was still odd to him, having to switch what to call her), raised in the Circle as she had been, was better adjusted to taking a hint than Dagna was. He grew used to it, though, over the weeks they spent together. Most of the time, Dagna came to the estate he had taken up in.

She sat at a small table in the corner of the main room that Fenris used; it was the one with the large, roaring fireplace and bottles of Aggregio Pavali, both empty and full, strewn about it. There were two candles on the table before her, the sun long-since set on the city, and her hand was stained to the wrist. Fenris found her hunched over a three books and as many pieces of parchment when he entered, much as he had left her earlier that day.

He was tired; exhausted, even. He threw the sword from his back and almost immediately began to remove his armor and scooped up a bottle before he threw himself into a chair that Cedric had brought him some time ago. He fussed with the cork, to no avail. He swore and threw the bottle into the fire, which caused the small dwarf to jump at the table and she repeated a Tevene curse that she had heard from Fenris several times over the last couple of months.

This caused the elf, despite himself, to chuckle.

Dagna, for her part, looked slightly frustrated. "And what do you find so funny?"

"Those words coming from you," he responded lowly, moving to stand with his eyes on another bottle.

"Don't bother, I'll bring you one," she waved him off and stood from her chair to gather another bottle of wine. "I don't understand why you drink this stuff," she murmured as she removed the cork with a small dagger that Fenris had given her 'just in case' after about a month after they started seeing each other (for her research) regularly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, taking the offered bottle and tipping it back.

"Reading is a much better escape – there are actually a lot of interesting books here. And the Hawkes have a lovely library, I'm sure they would let you borrow something."

Fenris' face darkened and he downed another large swig. "No."

That was something that frustrated Dagna, his curt responses. She did not understand why he could not just answer her honestly; she always responded completely to what he asked. When he did ask.

"I really think-"

"Would you like some?" Fenris offered her the bottle, trying desperately to get her to shut up. Dagna looked surprised at the offer but took the bottle and sat upon the other chair that Cedric had brought, turn at an angle so that she mostly faced Fenris, but still was angled towards the fire.

"At least this tastes better than ale."

Fenris laughed, just a little, and tipped the bottle back when Dagna handed it over to him. "You could have your own bottle."

"I will never be able finish what I am doing if I do," she smiled kindly, pulling her feet up onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her legs. It was cold in the room, even with the fire.

"We'll share, then," Fenris spoke, a statement and not a question, as he stuck the bottle out for her to take.

They passed it back and forth for quite some time; Dagna begged off quickly, although she stayed for a long time. They spoke little, if at all, and simply sat with the crackle of the fire to entertain them. Dagna didn't mind it and, truth be told, neither did Fenris. When the bottle was gone and a second one too, Dagna helped Fenris to bed despite his slight protestations. He didn't need her help, not really; but he didn't outright turn her away, either.

* * *

Dagna had started visiting Fenris in his home several months before; she had been in Kirkwall for a year by then and known Fenris just as long. A lyrium-laced god, she had thought upon seeing him standing over her in the darkness of Lowtown what seemed like forever ago. He was rarely overtly kind, though he was not particularly unkind either.

That first night left Dagna's head spinning; somehow the other dwarf had not only managed to secure Dagna rooms without need of payment, he had also convinced the elf to let Dagna question him about his lyrium.

This latter bit required that Dagna work, after a fashion, to discover why the elf had no memories since the infusing of the lyrium into his skin. Dagna was unsure if it was possible to find out without consulting the mage that had done it, or at least the tomes at his disposal, but she promised she would do what she could.

On the night in question (in fact, the anniversary of the night she arrived in Kirkwall), Dagna entered the house without knocking. After the first few attempts of knocking at, which often resulted in her sitting outside for hours until he finally left to discover that she had been waiting there the whole time, he told her that knocking was unnecessary. The place was no longer a mess; it always had been and, she thought, probably always would be if she hadn't decided to do something about it. She had cleaned it for him – not because it bothered her but because it seemed like a nice thing to do. He had, at first, been furious that she had gone to his home without him. However, once he had seen what she had done for him, that she meant no harm, he softened a little. Imperceptibly to others, perhaps, but he knew. Dagna was still slightly unfamiliar with the concept of friendship or anything of the like, but part of her wished to believe that she could call Fenris a friend. Even if he still made comments that made her feel like she should be upset; she rarely was, partially because she entirely missed the intent of the comments and partially because it did not matter to her. He was an angry, sad and bitter man. He hurt others because he, himself, was hurting. She had experienced the same thing with her father, Janar, when her mother had returned to the Stone. It was not so difficult to handle.

She pattered through the front entrance, dried blood spatters, dust and broken statues that had created an obstacle course either cleaned up or pushed away. She made her way to the room he had taken up in. When she was nearly to the top of the staircase, she could just barely see him through the crack he had left in the door. He was lounging in the chair he often sat upon, his bare shoulder visible as he sat, slouching sideways. In the visible hand dangled a bottle of some sort.

Dagna's face contorted a little in concern as she pushed the door open. Fenris did not stir, but spoke in his low and gravelly voice.

"Ahh, Dagna. Come, have a seat. Have a drink; there is plenty for the both of us."

He sounded odd; not cheerful, particularly. Somewhere between disgusted and amused. Dagna, unsure, skirted around his chair and settled herself on the smaller chair that she preferred.

"Oh, do not be so-" Fenris started, but did not finish. He stood, still in considerable control of his movements, and turned jerked the chair she sat in so that it faced his directly. Then he offered out the bottle of wine, tipping the opening to the small dwarf.

Dagna stared at it for a long moment and gave Fenris a look, one of impressionable curiosity. Finally, however, Dagna reached a tentative hand out to take the bottle. She turned it around atop her leg, reading the label on the bottle before she lifted it close to her lips.

"What is the occasion?" Dagna asked, still not taking a drink.

"Our anniversary," Fenris responded with a snort, tipping the bottom of the bottle to pressure her to drink. The runt of a dwarf, still mightily confused and even moreso now that Fenris had answered her question, finally let the wine into her mouth and down her throat. It was sweet but bitter, a paradox that she could not quite wrap her head around. But it was, actually, rather delightful.

"I am glad you stopped in," Fenris spoke as he stood again, moving over to another table along the wall. From her perch, Dagna could see that there were many more bottles of this Aggregio. She knew for a fact that there weren't this many two nights ago, when she had last visited. Perhaps half a dozen; did he intend them to drink it all? Dagna swallowed and took a second drink as Fenris opened a bottle, all for himself.

"W-why is that, Fenris?" she spoke quietly as he moved back to the position he had taken up beside her earlier.

After a deep swig of his own bottle, Fenris looked at her for a long moment without speaking. "I have a favor to ask of you."

Dagna blinked at him; her eyes no longer remained trained on his lyrium veins. She had long since learned to look into his deep, dark eyes despite the pain that was so obvious in them. When she did not speak, he did instead.

"Teach me to read." His words came out more of a demand than a question, but the words still surprised her.

Of course he could not read. He had been, before coming to Kirkwall, a slave. Slaves are not taught to read. Even the poor are rarely able to do so. She had often wondered why he did not ask after her notes and that one night, so long ago, when she had suggested he read instead of drink. How foolish of her.

"Of course," Dagna responded, the bottle forgotten between her lgs. Fenris gestured to it with one hand. Dagna, hesitantly, lifted the bottle to her lips again. Despite her dwarven blood, Dagna had a surprisingly low tolerance for alcohol – even with Varric's best attempts to build it up in the Hanged Man over Wicked Grace.

"Tonight, though, you must drink with me."

Dagna was unsure as to whether or not 'no' was really an option so, instead, she decided that the night could be lost and lifted her bottle to clink bottoms with Fenris. Instead of looking into the fire, he looked quite unreservedly at her.

"I do not understand you, Dagna."

"In what way do you mean?"

"All of them."

Dagna, for her part, laughed a little. "I think some of them are rather obvious. I mean, I am a female and a dwarf. Those are obvious, correct?"

Fenris nodded, watching her as she spoke. The fire danced in her hair, almost making it look as though it was moving much the same as the flames. The Guard Captain had red hair, but not like this.

He was a bottle in before he said it, but it still surprised the tipsy young woman.

"Your hair," he spoke, leaning forward in his chair a little.

"What about my," she paused to hiccup, "hair?"

"May I touch it?" In his right hand dangled his bottle, his left hand stilled mid-air between them.

Dagna's gray-blue eyes widened but she nodded a little, unsure of what to do. Fenris' feet shuffled as he moved closer to the end of his chair. As he moved towards her, his fabric-covered legs brushed hers before his hand found her hair.

"It's as soft as it looks," he sighed, blinking. He jerked back, seemingly coming back into himself, and he pulled back to his earlier spot on the chair. Clearing his throat, he apologized for what he had done.

It was impossible for Dagna to remove the smile from her face for the rest of the evening. Eventually, Fenris forgot about his transgression and they were able to speak like two people with shared memories could – like friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fenris crosses a line.

Dagna was holed up in Fenris' room for the third day in a row. They had spent several days on the first few letters in the alphabet, but Cedric and Hawke had asked him to go with them on a trip to the Wounded Coast. Dagna was alternating between her research and lessons that she was making up for the man whose home she was in.

Dagna jumped nearly a foot into the air when the door slammed shut – she had not heard the front door, so entrenched was she in a tome. But after Fenris climbed the stairs, cursing in Tevene the entire way, he slammed the door so hard an empty bottle fell off of the table at which Dagna sat and shattered to the floor.

"Festis bei umo canavarum," Dagna spoke, hand over her heart as she pushed her chair back from the table, turning towards him. She had picked up quite a bit of the language from Fenris; language was something she was surprisingly good at, despite her lack of exposure growing up. This particular phrase translated into 'You will be the death of me'.

"Vishante kaffas, dweomer," Fenris spat at her, using the Tevinter word for 'dwarf' as an insult to follow his curse. Dagna frowned a little but Fenris took no notice. He continued in the Trade Tongue so that there would be no misunderstanding, "Go home, Dagna."

The girl glanced from the elf to the door and then to the bottle that the elf picked up after throwing his sword, clattering, to the floor. The bottle he grabbed was giving him the same trouble the one had a few months prior. Dagna quickly hurried forward before he could throw it and took it gently from his hands. His glare did not bespeak any thanks, although he suppressed any growls as she opened the bottle and returned it to him.

"Now go home," he grimaced after taking a long swig of the wine.

Dagna sat in the chair beside his, pulling her legs to her chest as she set her feet on the edge of the seat.

"Have you gone deaf?" Fenris sat forward, their chairs still facing one another from their 'anniversary' evening.

"No," Dagna responded, glancing at him as she set her chin atop her knees. "I just disagree with you."

"You cannot disagree with a command." The idea of this, sounding so very much like something Danarius would say, make him all the angrier. Through gritted teeth, Fenris shot her a glare that would have left most men quaking at the knees. " _It is best if you leave_."

Dagna hardly seemed to care and she merely shook her head, "That is what I disagree with. Leaving you to yourself when you-"

"You do not know of what you speak, girl."

"I do, I think," she frowned at him and stretched her legs out, her feet not touching the floor as far back in the chair as she was. "I have known you for some time, and we have spent more of that time together than apart. I know that you are dangerously angry, but I fear more for you than I do for myself."

"Is that so?" Fenris growled, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. His bottle dangled precariously from three fingers between his legs.

"You will not hurt me," Dagna responded, blinking at him without fear.

It happened quickly; Fenris was certainly fast as he stood, the bottle still in one hand as he closed the other armored one around her throat. "I have killed many people in my life, Dagna. What is one more?"

"You won't hurt me," she responded in a rasp, her air supply being slightly cut off by his grip.

"Am I not hurting you now?" he narrowed his anger-clouded eyes, hand squeezing just a little.

"No," she hissed, actively trying not to gasp for breath. Her fingers, which wished to grasp his hand to remove it, remained in her lap. "But…you… _are_  hurting yourself."

Fenris clenched his jaw and Dagna could see the muscles working there. "I could crush your windpipe right now."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'? My hand is around your throat, if you had forgotten."

"You…couldn't."

" _Do not push me, girl_."

"Fenris," Dagna found it even more difficult to breathe as his fingers flexed. He lifted her, one-handed, a little off the chair. Dagna's hands found his arm, not to pull him off but to steady her rise.

Her heart was beating furiously, Fenris could feel her pulse against his palm. The sharpened points on the metal that covered the backs of his fingers were digging into her skin, she would bleed soon from five separate points. Her throat would be bruised, her voice hoarse. He saw the tears welling in her eyes involuntarily as she gasped for air. Still, she did not tell him to stop. The world was growing fuzzy, Fenris' face the only thing she could truly focus on.

His voice, as he spoke, sounded far-off, faint: "Do you believe me yet?"

"F…Fenris…" she murmured, even her voice sounding distant to her ears.

And then her world went black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dagna stays.

Dagna coughed as she breathed in, a hand lifting to her throat. It was slick and when, finally, she opened her eyes she saw red on her fingertips. She  _felt_  alive, despite the tightness in her throat and the blood on her hand. She blinked several times, trying to adjust her fuzzy vision to the empty chair in front of her.

"Oh, thank the Maker," Fenris spoke, moving over to her. His face was contorted in something resembling concern and his hand reached out, unbidden, but stopped short of touching her. "Dagna, I am so…so sorry. I  _told_  you to leave."

"What…what happened?"

Fenris' face paled and his hand, now unarmored much like the rest of him, moved back to grasp the arm of the chair Dagna had awoken in. "…What do you remember?"

"You were trying to prove to me that you could kill me."

A shiver ran through Fenris and he pulled his chair closer, flopping back into it without ceremony. The way she said it sounded as though she was talking about a game, not his hand crushing her windpipe. His offending hand returned to Dagna's armrest, as close to her as he trusted himself to get. "…And you blacked out. When you loosened your grip and I felt you slump, I realized what I had…what I had done."

"It is all right," Dagna responded, lifting her hand to cover his without asking. Fenris stiffened visibly but she did not remove her hand. "I am alive, aren't I?"

" _Why_?" He intoned, hand gripping tightly onto the armrest. Dagna felt his fingers clench beneath hers and, without thinking, she curled her fingers to cup around the back of his hand, near his wrist.

"Because I knew you were trying to prove that you are some hopeless beast. And you are not, Fenris. You are just in pain." Dagna spoke without concern for anything other than the elf whose hand she nearly held, seemingly unfazed by what had transpired.

"You trusted me not to kill you?" Fenris' eyebrow rose as he watched her, noting the sizable difference between their hands with a glance. She was quite small, delicate almost. Like a doll, or at least it seemed so to him in that moment. But still, she was strong. She was stronger than he had been in those moments before, never once pleading with him to leave off. Believing in him, which was somewhat of a foreign concept.

"I knew you wouldn't. I hadn't quite expected you to go that far, but I knew that you wouldn't kill me."

" _How?_ How did you know that?"

Dagna shrugged, not entirely sure how to answer his question. The back of his hand was cold beneath hers but neither of them moved. She inhaled shakily, then coughed. Without thinking, she lifted the hand that wasn't over Fenris' to rub her throat. She grimaced slightly at the tenderness of the skin there. "It was just a feeling."

"You bet your life on a  _feeling_?" The elf clenched his jaw, gray-green eyes narrowed in something akin to suspicion. That explained why she had so carelessly walked around Lowtown over a year ago; she probably  _felt_  like no one would harm her. Fenris snorted at the thought.

"No, I bet my life on  _you_ , Fenris. You have saved my life and I do not believe that you would waste it." Dagna spoke, referencing the first night they had met aloud. Perhaps he had not saved her for any reason other than his own, but saved her he had. Fenris remembered it too, although the idea was not comforting to him in those moments.

"I came  _so close_ , Dagna." He sounded a little frightened with the thought, or so it sounded to Dagna.

"Perhaps, but the key is that you  _did not_. Therefore, you  _are not_  the person you believe yourself to be."

Fenris pulled back, sliding his hand from beneath Dagna's as he slumped into his chair again. The diminutive dwarf turned so that she faced him in her chair, legs pulled up sideways beside her. She felt the tightness of the blood drying on her neck, the wounds small enough to scab over quickly.

"I made you bleed," Fenris grumbled, eyes cast into the fire. He could hardly look at her for the memory of it. He didn't need to see her for it to sting; the memory of her eyes, brimming with unwanted tears and her tiny hands holding onto his arm, not to pull him off but to keep her steady in his grasp. She never even thought to ask him to stop, never tried to get him off of her. She had just sat there – dangled there, more like – and let him take his anger out on her. She, who deserved none of it, cared more about his pain than her own.

"It wasn't intentional, merely a product of circumstance. If you hadn't been wearing your armor, it wouldn't have happened."

"If I was not, as you say, a hopeless beast it would not have happened at all."

"No, if you  _were_  a hopeless beast, we would not be having this conversation and you would be disposing of a body."

Fenris' face darkened and another shiver passed through him. The thought of having to carrying Dagna's lifeless body anywhere, let alone after he killed her himself, left him feeling sick in a way he had not for as far back as he could remember.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?" Dagna raised both eyebrows at him in question. She stood slowly; she was slightly wobbly, which made Fenris feel worse, as she moved to the table upon which bottles of Aggregio sat. To get to the table she had walked through a slippery spot, crunching on the glass that remained of Fenris' shattered bottle from before. It had dropped when he realized she was unconscious, his hand quickly occupied with setting her softly back into the chair.

Dagna lifted one, uncorked it, and moved back over to her spot. She didn't offer it to Fenris right away, taking a drink herself before she handed it over. Fenris watched her curiously, not knowing her to be someone to initiate drinking. He didn't speak until after taking a drink of his own.

"We found Hadriana," he spoke quietly, his voice lower than normal.

Dagna remembered the name, something he had mentioned during one of his drunk ramblings. "She was the magister's apprentice, right?"

"Danarius," Fenris spat, his eyes dark. "Yes. She told me…that my sister is still alive."

"Isn't that good news?"

"It, seeing her, it brought back all of the rage," he frowned, swirling the bottle around with a flick of his wrist. He took another long drink before passing it back to Dagna again, who took a dainty sip as she waited for him to continue. "Even though I am not with him any longer, I still feel like a slave."

"But you aren't," Dagna responded, taking a second drink before letting Fenris have the bottle. He took twice as much, watching her even as he tipped the bottle back. "Danarius can't harm you any longer, unless you let him."

"What do you know of such things?"

"I would like to think I know you, Fenris. I know that you are a free man, And I know that your friends won't let him hurt you, won't let him take you again."

"But what of my sister?"

"Ask Varric," Dagna responded quickly, the thought already having occurred to her. "He has connections, doesn't he? And Isabela, I imagine. And Aveline, too, the Guard Captain? She could watch the ports for ships from Tevinter."

Fenris' eyes never left Dagna's face as she spoke, holding the bottle out for her once more. She took it, but Fenris was too distracted by the prospects she put forth to be surprised.

"Do you think it is possible for me to find her?"

"I do. I believe, too, that it will bring you some sort of closure. If she truly is alive, she may be able to answer questions that we both have. She may be able to give me insight that you no longer remember so that I might be able to further the research into what happened to you, and how to reverse it."

Fenris remained silent as they passed the bottle back and forth, letting quite some time elapse before he sat back, leaning into the chair. His eyes shifted from her face to her neck, dark purple already creating an ugly necklace on her skin. He grimaced again before he shook his head. Leaning forward, his hand touched hers tentatively as she reached out to give him the bottle of wine, nearly empty now.

"Thank you."

Dagna's wide, dark blue eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she offered him a smile and she did not ask for what he was thanking her, merely said, "Of course, Fenris." before she stood to retrieve another bottle.

It was a comfortable silence that they shared, as always, the bizarre little dwarf and her broody elf. Despite her near-death experience, Dagna felt no ill will towards Fenris. If anything, she was concerned for him. She knew that he was still a slave in his mind, which would mean that he would never be free – not until he stopped hating Danarius with all that he was. It was not a sentiment that she had shared with him, mostly because she didn't think he would listen. She might mention it to Varric or one of Fenris' other companions – they had a different pull on him than she did, especially the Hawkes. Fenris seemed to barely tolerate Merrill, the other elf, which Dagna found unfortunate. She could understand his dislike for the blood magic that the other girl practiced, but it would be very helpful for Dagna to learn more of it if Fenris ever wished to know what Danarius had done to him. As Dagna had little to no contact with blood mages (because, to be honest, they weren't walking around with signs around their necks), and the books were forbidden as well as incredibly hard to find, Merrill was her best bet for answers. Dagna did not actively seek to frustrate or otherwise annoy Fenris - although sometimes it felt like all she did - so she did not seek out the elf mage, at least not Fenris was otherwise unoccupied. Which was rarely. He got along as well with Cedric as he could considering his feelings towards magic, but the way he bickered with Anders meant that he was left out when Hawke asked the other mage along.

Dagna didn't mind; she liked spending time with him, even if the majority of the time he was rather rude. Dagna didn't think it was really 'rude' so much as in pain. He was not unkind because he liked to see others hurt, so much as he was unaware of how to  _be_  kind because no one had ever done so for him. This was the reason why Dagna had stayed, even if Fenris would never see it. She knew that he needed her not to teach him how to read, but to teach him to understand that not everyone was like Danarius or the other people in Tevinter. Some people were kind – like the Hawke twins, and Varric. Aveline seemed nice, and Merrill too if a little odd. Anders was kind, although he was an entirely different specimen. Beatrice, the Amell mage cousin, was kind if a little odd – and that definitely means something, if Dagna thinks you're odd. Isabela was curious to Dagna, although she didn't understand what was going on most of the time. Still, Isabela was not particularly  _un_ kind. And Carver…Carver was scary. Angry like Fenris, but for an entirely different reason.

And so Dagna would stay; she would stay when he yelled and he cursed, when he threw bottles at nothing because they wouldn't open, when he held her in the air by her neck. She would stay until he understood that he was only hurting himself by not letting go of Danarius. And she would stay to prove to him that someone did care.

And, she thought as she found his eyes over the second bottle of wine that night, she would stay for the drinks. At least that night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is one of those random-backwards-in-time moments. I try to specifically mention some kind of time-frame in the chapters to make it easier to understand, although I'm pretty sure that Fenris' "anniversary" in-game happens after Hadriana's visit. I think there may be a secondary anniversary of it in the future.
> 
> While dwarves do inherit their caste from the parent of the same gender, the Dragon Age Wiki says that both Janar and Dagna are of the smith caste. There isn't any information about her mother, so I'm going to make it up.

Perhaps three months into their consistent meetings, Fenris found Dagna placed outside of his borrowed mansion. She was curled up with her bag beneath her head and a jar of some green-brown mush nestled between her arms, held close to her chest. Fenris bent his legs at the knees and reached a hand out to touch her shoulder.

"Have you got a death wish?"

Dagna started from her light sleep, eyes blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to Fenris' face.

"What? Oh…no, I've been here for hours."

Fenris balked a little, standing without offering his assistance to the girl.

"To what end?"

"I was waiting for you. I didn't want to miss you."

"So you have waited on my doorstep for hours? Is what you have to say so important that it could not wait until tomorrow?"

"Nothing much to tell, but I have something for you," she spoke, offering the jar to him after she stood.

Fenris looked at the jar with a bemused smile, "Bad attempt at jam?"

"No," she responded, a little caught off guard by the suggestion.

"Well, what is it then?"

Dagna, as Fenris rolled the glass container in his armored hands, lifted her bag to drape the strap across her shoulder. "It's a nonmagical healing potion of sorts. Cedric mentioned that you were opposed to Anders' assistance. I thought this might help."

Fenris gave her a look that bespoke both curiosity and disbelief. "What…what is in it?"

"Herbs, mostly. It has a little bit of Aggregio in it for taste, but mostly elfroot and embrium. A little spindleweed. Absolutely no lyrium."

Fenris made a noise low in his throat and moved the jar to one hand so that he could open the door with the other.

"It will work much more slowly than the magic healing potions that your companions use, but it will have the same effect. I have a hypothesis that, in time, it will positively affect your overall health but I've only tested it on a mouse, so I can't make any promises."

Fenris, who had long since started up the stairs, stopped just inside of the room that he most frequented and turned about to look at her.

"Are you coming, or do you intend to sleep on my doorstep until tomorrow?"

Dagna had followed him up as she spoke but stopped on the top stair as Fenris moved through another doorway. She was a little taken aback but hurried to him.

Fenris moved to set his sword on the table with a thump before he pulled off his gauntlets and tossed them beside it.

"Do you…would you like any help?" Dagna squeaked, taking a tentative step towards him.

Fenris flinched a little as he turned and, though he did not give her permission, he also did not push her away. She was wholly unfamiliar with armor but managed to do more help than harm. She noticed as she helped him with a piece of his torso armor that there was a sizeable gash in his side.

"Oh ancestors," she murmured, eyes widening as she tilted her head to look at his face. "Hold still a moment."

Fenris leaned against the table, trying to keep a pained look off of his face. Dagna dug around in her pack, having dropped it without thought to the side. When she stood again, she juggled three jars and a strip of fabric, setting them on the table before she moved to look at the wound.

"Do you just carry herbs and things around all day?" Fenris chuckled weakly as he watched her with his eyebrows raised.

"Only when I come to see you," Dagna replied honestly, which Fenris found amusing too. Dagna frowned at the wound, something she had to bend only a little to be face-to-face with it. "You'll have to take this all off. I am no healer, but I can manage something."

"No magic," Fenris responded, eyes narrowed.

"Have you forgotten that I am a dwarf, Fenris?" Dagna, for her part, laughed a little. "I promise, no magic. Now, would you please remove your shirt so that I can make sure you live to see tomorrow?"

Fenris harrumphed and, gritting his teeth, removed the remaining layers. He stood before Dagna in his leather breeches. Dagna paused a moment, mesmerized by his naked torso. It was incredible, and more than just because of the faintly glowing white-blue lines that made strange shapes. She couldn't recall a time when she had seen a mostly naked elf. She had seen shirtless dwarves on occasion, although her father tried to keep her out of such situations. She had seen the Warden – Alistair, she thought – without a shirt on, which was also a sight to behold. But Fenris, his slim sides tapering into a slender waist. His hipbones were visible, just the top, hinting at a 'v' that would lead to another place entirely. Dagna's face colored when Fenris growled, making her realize she had been staring.

"You should not stare."

"Do you realize how breathtaking you are?" Dagna asked, forgetting herself. Her face nearly matched the color of her hair in the dark light of the candlelit room.

"No," Fenris responded flatly, jaw clenching.

"But how?" Dagna pressed, moving back to the table to open the jars. "The shape-"

"I do not need to hear of the lyrium branded into my skin, dwarf."

"I wasn't taking about the lyrium,  _elf_ ," Dagna frowned at him over her shoulder before she turned back to the task at hand, hand-grinding the dried herbs into the fabric of the would-be bandage. She hated when he called her 'dwarf', as if she was nothing more than her race. She returned the favor when she realized that he meant it as a sort of insult. "I was talking about your body. The structure of it, the way your muscles move, the shape of your hips." Dagna's face was flaming red as she turned back to him, the bandage still on the table as she moved towards him with a dried purple flower, which resembled an orchid. "While the branding is interesting and certainly a sight to behold, I see it on your arms and feet, on your neck every time I look at you. I have never seen your chest, though. I have never seen muscles knit together like yours do. I think this is what one would call a 'compliment'."

Fenris snorted and then winced at the effort, leaning over to press his two hands against the table to stable himself. "Have you…never seen a man without a shirt before?"

"Not many and certainly none like you."

"No slaves, then?"

"You do that, all the time, " Dagna huffed a little, pressing the flower into the wound. Fenris hissed and Dagna sighed a little. "You make suppositions and twist things that people say. I have never called you a slave, Fenris. I have never implied that you are less of a person than anyone else. In fact, I try every time I speak to you to make sure you understand that I believe the opposite. But you make it  _so difficult_." Dagna spoke as she retrieved the bandage, holding the flower in place with one hand while she stretched to grab the fabric. She put the herb-laced fabric over the flower and held lit gently there, reaching her other arm around his side. Carefully, she slid her fingers along the other side of the bandage, keeping it tight enough to keep it in place. Her hands met on the other side of him, her fingers barely touching as she wound the fabric back around.

Fenris seemed struck by what Dagna had said and had no response for it. Instead, as Dagna moved back from him once the bandage was sufficiently in place, he took up a different line. "Do you know what today is?"

"The day after yesterday," Dagna responded, replacing the lids on the jars before she nudged the potion bottle into Fenris' hands.

Again, the elf snorted. He opened the jar with a clenched jaw, "How much do I take?"

"As much as you want. It isn't going to hurt you. If you decide that you like the idea of it, I can always make more. I may need to come along with you all for supplies at some point. There is only so much of this stuff to be found inside the city."

"You must have a deathwish. You know what happens when we leave the city."

"I also know what happens while you're still in it. I would rather be with you in danger, than without you," she spoke matter-of-factly. "But, you asked me what today is. I don't know. Some Surfacer holiday?"

"After a fashion, I suppose. Today is the anniversary of my escape."

Dagna had no idea what to say in response and so she remained quiet, putting her things back into her pack.

"Would you like to hear the tale?"

Dagna stopped as he spoke, more surprised than anything. "I..I suppose I would, if you would like to tell it."

And so, after lighting the fire and replacing his torn shirt with another, Fenris and Dagna took up in a pair of broken chairs at the slightly tilted table. Fenris spoke of Seheron and Fog Warriors. When he revealed that he had killed them at the behest of his 'master', Dagna's face crinkled in frustration. It didn't make any sense.

"You have something to say?" Fenris intoned, a dark eyebrow lifted as his eyes found Dagna's face.

"I don't understand."

"What in particular?"

"Why did you kill those men, the Fog Warriors, if they were your friends?"

"My master had returned, had ordered it. It seemed…inevitable. But then, when I looked at them… When I had seen what I had done, I couldn't… I just…I ran. And I never looked back."

"Why…why did you stay with Danarius so long, then? If you could just run after all?"

"You have never been a slave," he responded, swilling down the healing potion Dagna had given him like it was wine. It was a little bitterer but was not awful. "Slaves do not wonder what freedom is, they merely focus on the day at hand and the tasks that their masters have put forth."

"I may not have been a slave, but I do know what that existence is like. Living for another person because there is no other choice. I was never a slave in the truest sense of the word, but I existed for my father's purposes for a long, long time."

"You are hardly twenty years old," Fenris brushed off her statement, ignoring the sentiment behind the rest of what she said.

"True, but eighteen out of twenty years when all you have is twenty – it's quite a long time. You've been free for three years, correct?"

Fenris nodded, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Then perhaps today is my anniversary also. I cannot remember which day it was that I finally left Orzammar, but certainly close to now. It was freezing on the surface."

"What do you mean by this 'surface' nonsense?"

"Dwarves, at least the ones in Ferelden, live in Orzammar. It is an underground city. Dwarves that leave the Stone, that leave Orzammar are no longer welcome with their families. We call it being Casteless. We no longer belong in dwarven society. Oftentimes, we are branded." Dagna pushed her hair aside, revealing a square brand on her left cheek, perpendicular to her ear. It looked something like a stretched out 's', not that Fenris knew the letter. It was drawn in squares, yellow-gold against her paler skin. Fenris had not noticed it before, partially because of the color and partially because of its location. It was obvious now that he knew about it, though. It extended out from beside her ear, beneath her eye along her cheekbone. He was curious how he had missed it for so long, although he assumed she didn't keep it out in the open. She also didn't draw much attention, to it or to herself in general.

"Why does Varric not have such a mark?"

"He is of the merchant class; his family likely left quite a while ago, there was quite a stir about that too. If I remember right, Varric wasn't born in Orzammar. Or at least, there wasn't a record of him with the Tethras family. They used to be nobles, actually. Something about Provings being fixed by his father, if memory serves. Most merchants, if I understand correctly, have severed most ties with Orzammar except for trading purposes. I left my father and my ancestors behind to better myself. Personally, I think I'll change Orzammar for the better too but try and convince the elders of that," Dagna laughed a little, hand rubbing lightly against the tattoo on her face.

"If you were leaving, why would they do such a thing?"

"So merchant dwarves know. So, if I ever want to return to Orzammar, I am known for what I am. Essentially, a traitor."

Fenris watched her with his eyes narrowed just slightly, as if he was investigating her, weighing her words for truth. The way she spoke did not suggest much sadness at the idea of not being able to return to her father.

"What of these castes? What were you before you chose to leave?"

"My family is in the Smith Caste. My father was – is still, probably – one of the best smiths in Orzammar. But I hated it and, if I'm honest, I wasn't very good at it either. But I was always fascinated by the tales of mages. The Shaperate, he is the keeper of the knowledge in Orzammar , he told me about Minderel and Ureldin. They were dwarves that went to the Circle too. I knew what the dangers of leaving were before I left, although I have to say I was mighty surprised when they held me down for my brand."

"What do you hope to achieve with your studies?" Fenris felt better as he listened to her speak, leaving half of the jar of Dagna's concoction in favor of opening a bottle of wine. He moved pulled out a chair and settled hesitantly into it, careful not to disturb his bandage.

"Some of it, I hope to discover if lyrium like it exists in Orzammar would negatively affect mages. You see, the Chantry has no place in Orzammar and no right there either. If I can prove that the lyrium wouldn't harm mages, there would be a place for them. Dwarves have a natural resistance to magic, so we would be quite safe. They would be able to be free, or freer than they are, without fear of harming themselves or others."

"You cannot trust mages unchecked."

"No,  _you_  can't," Dagna retorted, packing her jars back into her bag. She would have to get more supplies to make him more of her potion. He seemed to be taking it well, and the wound had all but stopped bleeding. "And I'm sorry for it. But you asked me a question, to which I supplied less than half of an answer. I wish to know why it is that dwarves do not enter the Fade when we dream, why we have a resistance to magic, why we are the only people aside from the Tranquil that can create enchantments, and how it is that you can do what you can. You, right now, are my priority because I believe answering your questions will lead me to answers for the others. "

"Why?"

Dagna huffed in response to his question, muttering something about 'insipid' or 'incorrigible' as she slid the strap of her pack over her head and draped it on her shoulder and across her torso. It bounced a little against her hip as she moved towards the door, standing in the doorway. "Because I wish to know. And don't forget the drink the rest of that. Let me know how you feel tomorrow or the next day so I can adjust the measurements if I need to."

Fenris waved his wine bottle at her in response and Dagna turned away from him, walking carefully down the stairs towards the door and into the night.

He felt a little guilty, having her leave in the dark for the Hanged Man. He knew, though, that Varric had eyes on her from the moment she left the front door until she reached her room so the elf felt a little better about his lack of motivation to follow her home.


	8. Chapter 8

Fenris sat silently in the Hanged Man, on the main floor at a large wooden table in the corner. It was half-booth with the wall behind it, five chairs curved around the other side of it. He sat in a chair, not trusting himself to be trapped in the corner once everyone else arrived. He was unsure as to why he was the first one there, as Varric, Isabela, and the twins' cousin were staying there. And yet, he sat with a mug of piss that passed as ale at a table by himself. For the most part, people had long-since stopped giving him odd looks or even looking at him at all. While they were not as infamous as they would soon become, the Hawkes and their companions were as well-known as any refugees-gone-nobles might be.

It was not that Fenris minded spending time by himself, especially now with Dagna almost constantly under foot, it was just odd to him that he was the first to arrive. Though, shortly after he really noticed, Varric, Cedric, Hawke (on Anders' arm), and Beatrice entered. They settled in around the table, Anders and Hawke in the corner of the booth with Cedric on one side and Beatrice next to him. Varric took up at a chair beside Fenris, looking at him for a long moment. This prompted Fenris to say, "What, dwarf?" to which Varric just chuckled lowly in response.

Beatrice looked like a deer ready to bolt as she sat beside Cedric, although it was probably the most relaxed he had seen her since meeting her. None of the mages in the company carried a staff and Fenris thought maybe that was why Beatrice looked so terrified. Hawke, however, looked completely at ease as she kept herself close to Anders. Fenris imagined that Anders probably looked more content before becoming an Abomination, but now he looked like he was almost constantly warring with himself. If Fenris felt anything other than animosity towards Anders, it was a little pity. Despite their magic, Fenris thought they could be happy together but then Anders had gone and ruined it. Fenris wondered a little what that was like, but it wasn't something he dwelled on overmuch.

The door opened again, but Fenris did not turn around to look. He heard Isabela and Merrill chirping at each other. They stopped short of the table, behind Fenris' back, and Isabela purred, "Look who we found!"

Fenris craned his neck over his shoulder at that, eyes on the women just in time to see Dagna step to the side from behind Isabela. "This adorable little thing was wandering around the docks looking for – what did you say, sweet thing?"

"Spindleweed," Dagna nodded once, seemingly oblivious to both the way that Isabela looked at and spoke to her.

"That's right, love – spindleweed. So, of course, we asked her along. You can never have too many pretty faces around a table."

At that, Dagna startled a little. Isabela had just referred to her as pretty? If it had been in nature to do such things, she might have laughed.

"Here, have this chair. I'll grab another," Varric offered Dagna, removing himself from the chair nearest Fenris to find a replacement.

As Dagna was staying at the Hanged Man (Varric was giving her the use of one of his rooms, for free no less), but she didn't join the group very often. More than likely, she would speak to any of them if she saw them there but aside from sleeping and occasionally eating, she wasn't around very often. She spent more of her time with Fenris, or at least at his mansion, than anything else. If she wasn't there, she was likely traipsing about Kirkwall or at the Gallows' library. That evening, early enough that the sun was only beginning to set, Dagna had been digging along the docks to find more spindleweed for lyrium-free potion. She had, after a few weeks, been able to get a better idea of the proportions Fenris' dose and now she was trying to make loads of it for him to keep around. She had run out of mostly everything she needed and, as she had not been invited out of the city as of yet, she had to scrounge.

Fenris, without thinking, moved a hand out to adjust Dagna's chair. Varric was larger than she was and she couldn't quite reach the table, at least not well. Instead of forcing her to adjust it herself, which would mean she had to climb down again, he pulled it forward after she sat. By bringing it closer to the table, he brought it closer to himself. He made no show of noticing this and did not push it away again. The movement did not go unnoticed, though no one made to comment on it.

Isabela took up the chair to Dagna's other side, draping an arm across the back of Dagna's chair and Merrill settled herself between the pirate and the merchant dwarf.

"So what's tonight? Diamondback?" Merrill asked, wide-eyed as per usual. The barmaid, seemingly unaffected by the appearance of the crowd, brought out three mugs at a time to make sure everyone had something to drink, including a third round for Fenris. Dagna's eyes widened at the size of the mug; it was much larger than she remembered.

"Let's ask the little lady," Isabela grinned, raising a dark and sculpted eyebrow at Dagna.

"Isn't that a card game, Diamondback?"

The group, even Beatrice, let out a little laugh. They all gathered at least once weekly to play some card game – Aveline would be quite late, her shift an unfortunate one that night – and generally it was either Wicked Grace or Diamondback. Wicked Grace wasn't as well suited for the larger group, although not everyone played every hand.

"Yes, love. Would you like to play?"

Dagna smiled and nodded. She hadn't ever played, but she had known the young women they called "noble hunters" to do so. They were the young women, mostly those from Dust Town, that tried to find themselves nobles to marry. Or bed. Dagna wasn't allowed to speak to them openly, but that didn't mean she couldn't hear them when she walked by.

"Let's do the first hand for free then, shall we? We'll bet on the second," Cedric offered, his winning smile across from Dagna.

"Just so you know," Hawke began, sitting up slightly beside Anders and letting go of his hand, "everybody cheats."

This caused everyone to laugh again, except Fenris who only smiled slightly. Varric pulled out the cards – quite a few stacks, in fact - from an inside pocket and began to shuffle the decks altogether before he set them in the middle of the table. There were seven decks in all for a total of one hundred and five cards on the table, and Varric tucked six cards away into his pocket.

"Do you carry those around with you all the time?" Dagna asked curiously, blinking at him from her position.

"You saw that?"

"I wasn't meant to?"

Varric laughed and shook his head a little as he pulled a card, "Maybe she doesn't need a practice round."

"All right. So, Beatrice, you're next. Then around in the circle and Merrill will be last. Highest card deals. Highest card is the Magician. Any questions, Dagna?" Cedric asked the dwarf over his mug, nodding to his cousin when he spoke about her. Dagna responded with a small shake of her head as the drawing proceeded on. When she lifted her card, she noticed the word Priestess across the top of the card and a fancy looking woman in a white dress, the chantry symbol bold on her chest. The cards were old and obviously well-worn; Dagna wondered if they were marked in any way. She set the card face-down on the table to inspect the back as she waited for Merrill to draw her card.

"Reveal," Varric said, and everyone laid their cards face-up on the table.

There were an awful lot of Priests on the table. Dagna assumed that this meant they were the most common card, although she was unsure of how many there were in the deck she now knew that there were six less. She and Isabela had the highest cards, although Isabela's was a magician.

That meant there wasn't another one, or so Dagna thought. Isabela went first, dealing two cards to each person around and back to herself.

"This is where Isabela would make a bet," Hawke offered, "And then we'd all go round and reveal a card and match her bet."

Starting with Merrill, everyone did. Again, there were a lot of Priest cards, although there were a couple of Kings and Queens around too. The card from before didn't count in the hand, so Dagna had two _King._ These were human men with ridiculously adorned crowns arrogantly askew atop their dark headed hair. The picture reminded her a little of Cedric, although Cedric was much nicer than she thought the man in the picture would be.

She wasn't the only King on the table, although she was trying to pay attention to what everyone put down. She wanted to compare it to the other ones that they put down, trying to figure out what the strategy was – lay your highest or your lowest first.

"And now I reveal one of mine," Isabela flipped a card, revealing a Priestess. Dagna saw the crinkles on the edges of the cards, but she couldn't find a discernable pattern. "And then I'd start a secondary bet, to up the ante as they say. "You can stop at any time, it's called folding. You don't lose coin if you don't bet it, but you can't win either."

"I'll say," Anders grumbled a little, but mostly good-naturedly as he took a small drink of his ale.

Isabela won, and Dagna understood a little more of the game mechanics. They bet only coppers on the next round, which Varric won. The third round, to everyone's surprise, Beatrice won. She slid the coppers over to Cedric and begged off. She was such an odd little human, Dagna thought. She left the Hanged Man with half a mug left.

"How's she doing?" Varric asked as the girl disappeared into the night.

Cedric frowned a little, "It's still hard for her, adjusting to being free, I guess." Cedric looked to Dagna, the only one that didn't know much about her. "She's only been out of Aeonar for about six months. Anders sent her back to us before he-" he stopped, glancing to the mage on the other side of his twin, "-attend to some personal things. "We've only known her for a little while, she arrived here just after we returned from the Deep Roads, about two months before you got here."

"What's Aeonar?" Dagna asked as she sipped on her ale; she had long-since stopped making a face, although she still had not grown accustomed to the taste.

"Mage prison," Anders responded, the faintest of blues flashing in his eyes. Hawke's hand touched his arm gently, almost unnoticeably, and he let out a sigh.

"Why was she there?" If anyone else had asked so outright, Hawke probably would have thought them rude. Dagna, though, was just very honest and the mage knew that she meant no harm.

"It was a bad judge of character and unfortunate circumstances, from what she has explained."

"More like the templars-"

"Anders, please, let's not start this again," Hawke frowned a little at her companion and, despite the frustrated look on his face, Anders did not continue his train of thought. "Anyway, either of us would be happy to answer your questions another time. You should come to dinner at the house, Mother would certainly be glad to meet you. We could talk more about it then."

Dagna, although disappointed that Hawke did not want to answer her questions right then, understood from the looks on the faces of Anders and Fenris that pressing further would do nothing but harm to the evening.

Instead, she said, "Is she okay, though?"

"As okay as she can be, she's getting better," Hawke smiled at Dagna, her bright blue eyes reflecting her appreciation for Dagna's understanding.

"I'm glad. If there's anything I can do, let me know."

"Of course. And do come to dinner," Cedric responded instead, the an almost identical set of eyes sending an almost identical message.

"I'd like that," Dagna smiled at the both of them, a little surprised by the invitation. No one was ever mean to her, except maybe Fenris, but no one truly sought her out either. She liked the idea of this, the idea of friends.

They played another round, which no one was surprised that Isabela won.

Finally, on the fifth round, Dagna had two Priestesses in her small hands. The only thing, from her understanding, that could beat her would be a Magician and a Priestess. The odds were in her favor, to be certain.

Somehow, magically, Cedric, Varric, and Isabela all had magicians.

"That's not…that's not possible," Dagna frowned, staring at their hands when all cards were revealed.

The three cheaters all laughed, Hawke too, and they pushed their coins towards Dagna. She raised her eyebrows in surprise as she looked at the small pile of copper coins in front of her. "But…How do I win?"

"You're the only one that didn't cheat. Unless you did. Did you?" Merrill chirped from beside Isabela, leaning across the table a little to look at her.

"No… I don't think so," Dagna smiled a little awkwardly, setting her cards down. She reached out to pull the coins closer, hesitantly as if she wasn't sure it was really happening. "I've never won a game before."

" _Any_ game?" Varric asked, incredulous as Dagna made to deal the cards out again. The others laughed at the idea and Dagna noticed Fenris tense at her side.

"She said so, did she not?" Fenris growled a little, which surprised Dagna. Was he mad at her, or just his normal surly self?

"Down, boy," Anders responded light-heartedly, no hint of his live-in companion making an appearance.

Fenris stood abruptly, his chair falling backward with a clatter to the floor.

" _What did you just say_?"

"Fenris," Dagna murmured, reaching out as if she would touch his arm. The lyrium lines were glowing faintly. "Fenris, I don't think-"

"Shut up," he spat, turning his anger on her for a moment. And then he saw her face, as if he had not been looking before. She did not look scared, only concerned. Fenris groaned a little, the light fading from his arm as he leaned down to right his chair. "I am sorry. I…need a moment." He left the table and moved to leave, heading for the door.

"I wonder what's got the elf's panties in a bunch," Anders spoke, as if he truly had no idea. Hawke glared at him a little before she rolled her eyes.

"Should I go after him?" Cedric asked, concern creasing the corners of his eyes.

"Nah, let Dagna do it," Varric responded, glancing at the girl he spoke of.

Isabela made a rising motion with her hands, "Go on, love. We may cheat, but we won't steal – at least not from you."

Dagna smiled sheepishly at them before she slid from the chair and moved to the door, following Fenris into the night. She did not have to go far, as Fenris was pacing in front of the building.

"Are you-"

"Why did you follow me?" Fenris frowned deeply, his voice low in anger.

"Because something is wrong."

"What is  _wrong_  is that Abomination across the table from you and I."

Had she been someone else, she would have likely made a joke about Cedric. However, Dagna was not that person. Instead, she frowned at him. "Do you care for Hawke?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Answer the question, Fenris."

"I value her friendship, yes."

"So you value, too, her happiness?"

Fenris made a noise low in his throat at her line of questioning. He knew where it was going.

"But her happiness will be her undoing."

"That isn't for you to decide."

"But I do not have to  _like_  him."

"Of course not. But you do have to be at least  _civil._ "

" _He_  is the one that implied I am a dog."

"I could be wrong, but I believe it was a joke. You were quite agitated."

"They were making a fool of you!" Fenris clenched his jaw, stopping his pacing to stare at her, unwavering.

"Really?" Dagna asked, surprised. She was more surprised that he was upset about it than the notion. "I didn't think so. I imagine it is quite ridiculous to meet someone that has played no games in their life, especially at my age. I do not think they were laughing  _at_  me, Fenris. And why in all of Thedas would that upset you so?"

Fenris waved his hand at her dismissively, not responding to her question. Dagna huffed a little and leaned back against the wall beside the door rather than going back through it.

Fenris watched her from where he stood. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why did you get upset?"

Fenris narrowed his eyes at her, jaw tight again.

"Exactly. When you answer me, I'll answer you. Until then, I'll stand here and wait for you to either talk or go back inside."

He kept her eyes on her, unwavering, for what seemed like hours. In fact, it  _was_  quite a long time. So long that Aveline found them as she finally made an appearance.

"Is there something going on I should know about?" She asked as she approached, looking from Fenris to Dagna and back.

Fenris shook his head and fell in-step behind the newly-titled Guard Captain and Dagna followed too, back into the Hanged Man for a much less eventful – though much more fun – evening. Fenris moved seats with Varric as to be further away from Anders and Cedric offered the spot beside him to Dagna, Aveline taking up the chair that Dagna had vacated.

Despite the goings-on of earlier in the evening, they were able to enjoy the night well into the wee hours of the next day. Eventually, it was only Varric, Dagna, and Fenris at the table. Dagna had long-since stopped playing the card game, a small sum of money that fattened her coin purse just a little.

Fenris made to leave and nodded his head once at Varric before he looked to the other dwarf. "Meet us at the Hawke Estate tomorrow before noon. We'll be leaving for the Coast and you can come along to gather your materials, if you wish."

Dagna blinked at him, unsure as to where the suggestion had come from. He said no good-byes, merely left after his piece was said.

The girl sighed a little and settled against the wall that served as the back of the bench, her large mug of ale mostly unfinished in her hands. It was only her second one for the night, although her head was swimming slightly. Cedric had finished Beatrice's without a thought after she left, and everyone but Merrill and Anders were well into their fifth or sixth mug by the time they left.

Varric whistled after Fenris left them, chuckling as the sound ended and he turned to look at Dagna.

"That was something, wasn't it?"

"What do you mean, Varric?"

"You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

Dagna's eyebrows knit together above the bridge of her nose as she looked at her fellow dwarf in consternation.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then. What Fenris said," Varric shook his head, laughing as he downed the rest of his ale. He offered his arm to Dagna who slid from the booth and held the mug in one hand while she took his elbow with the other. "You, little one, are in for a mighty big surprise."

The cryptic way in which he spoke was lost on her; she was still slightly confused, but she attributed it a little to the ale that was making her head swim. Varric dropped her off at the door to her room before he, shaking his head as he chuckled to himself, retired to his own bed.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Chapter Eight**

* * *

Varric watched the two of them as they walked, the taller one a little behind and to the left. He, the taller one, kept turning his head slightly to the side to look at his companion as she walked, humming a quiet tune. Cedric walked beside Varric and leaned down, far enough behind the other two that they wouldn't hear his whisper.

"Do you suspect either of them know it?"

Varric chuckled, trying to keep it quiet as to avoid being caught in their conversation. Dagna stopped and leaned down – which wasn't very far at all – to gather up some spiny looking plant and shove it into an almost-full jar. "Hardly. We'll be lucky if we live to see the day."

"Certainly he can't be that dense," Cedric intoned, eyebrow raised at Varric. He paused and laughed a little, "Well, I suppose he could be."

"I don't know that he's thick," Varric stopped a few feet behind them when Dagna happened upon another plant a few feet ahead, "so much as he doesn't want to acknowledge it. It's a scary thing, emotion."

"Is it? And here I thought you were only ever happy and laughing," Cedric grinned, setting a hand lightly on Varric's shoulder.

The human and the dwarf caught up with Fenris and Dagna in time to hear the former say, "You are quite close to the edge."

Dagna replied over her shoulder, completely seriously, "Well, if you would like to tell the plants to grow further towards the road, be my guest."

Cedric burst into laughter and Varric, despite his amusement and surprise, managed to say, "Did you just make a joke, little one?"

The smallest person in the group sat back on her heels, knees bent and toes of her shoes pressed into the sandy ground. She smiled up at him and shrugged, "I suppose I did."

When she looked at Fenris, despite the almost ever-present frown, she saw the hint of amusement in his eyes.

They continued on for quite some time, letting Dagna stop as she needed. About to round one particular outcropping of rocks, the hairs on the back of Varric's neck stood up.

He lifted his hand for Cedric to stop but Dagna was too far ahead to see it. Fenris caught it out of the corner of his eye and tried to reach out to Dagna to stop her, but to no avail.

She walked right into a bandit ambush, five men falling upon her almost immediately.

One man tore her bag from her, throwing it to the ground. A jar rolled out but a kick revealed that there was nothing they desired in it.

"Stupid dwarf, wandering about by yourself," the man that kicked her bag said as another pushed her forcibly to the ground.

"She is not," Fenris spoke as he appeared, his massive sword held between two hands in front of him.

"An elf and a dwarf? Oh, I'm terrified," the bandit by her bag laughed at him and two kicks from the other men landed in Dagna's sides.

Fenris saw red and rushed forward, sword raised. An arrow from Bianca settled in the man by the bag, causing him to stumble backwards. He tripped over Dagna's bag and promptly tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

Cedric rushed another of the men, still beating Dagna for no apparent reason, and knocked him to the ground with his shield, sword raised high.

The fight was not particularly long and Dagna, aside from the now fallen men, was the most injured. She remained on the ground long after the fighting had stopped, spitting blood onto the sand with her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Are you all right?" Varric asked as he approached her, hand settling lightly on her shoulder.

"Of course she isn't!" Fenris hissed, all but pushing Varric aside as he knelt beside Dagna in the sand. "Can you stand?"

"My…my side," her breath caught as she put one hand into the dirt to try and push herself up. Fenris, his sword on the ground a pace behind them, put one hand on the elbow closest to him and the other on the opposite arm. Cedric, who had replaced his sword and shield on his back, leaned over Dagna's fallen pack and picked everything up as Fenris helped her to stand.

He kept an arm behind her until she was steady and then moved around to look at her face. He frowned as the bruising began to form and brushed blood away from the casteless branding on her cheek without a thought.

"Varric, have you got a healing potion?" Cedric asked as he draped Dagna's too-small bag on his shoulder.

The other dwarf nodded, already having retrieved it from his side. He held it out to the girl and Fenris was too engrossed in his concern to disagree. In fact, he took the vial from the archer and opened it for Dagna before he handed it over. The taste of lyrium made Dagna nauseous as she tried to sip it, avoiding tipping her head back. It was a little better than the pain, but she knew that the herbs in her pack would do her better. She didn't understand how Varric took the stuff.

"There's a jar…Fenris, you know the one – the flowers."

Without a word, the elf moved from her to retrieve the mentioned object and withdrew one. It was fresh, as most of her plants were. Shakily, Dagna removed the pollen column in the middle and tossed it to the ground before she pressed the rest of the flower to her tongue. The healing potion she had been giving was working a little, although she felt dizzy as the pain in her side became a dull throb rather than a sharp pain.

The flower was sweet, almost too sweet, but the tingling that slid down her throat let her know that she was right.

Fenris left her long enough to get his sword and replace it on his back before he returned to her side, offering her an arm to hold onto. "Are you able to walk?"

"Won't know until I try," she responded with a weak smile.

"Two jokes in one day," Varric whistled lowly, grinning as he moved to walk beside Dagna.

Fenris shot him a look, to which the male dwarf rolled his eyes.

The journey back to Kirkwall was slowed by Dagna's slowly recuperating body, although they picked up pace as the flower and the healing potion took hold. By the time they reached the Hanged Man, Dagna was all but better.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Dagna frowned a little as they entered the pub.

Fenris shook his head, "I told you not to apologize for things that are not your fault."

"But I walked-"

"You did not call the bandits down upon us and, moreover, you did not  _ask_  to be beaten."

Dagna's face colored a little and she wiped at her cheeks, trying to remove any dried blood that remained. There was none.

Varric and Cedric both nodded, apparently in agreement with Fenris' ascertation.

"He's right, little one," Varric spoke as he handed over her pack from Cedric, as he was closer, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you certain?" She continued to frown, adjusting the bad on her shoulder with a small wince.

"Absolutely," Cedric responded with a nod. "Next time we'll just have to clear it out before we take you."

"There will not be a next time," Fenris responded, seemingly accepting no arguments.

Dagna felt as though she certainly must have done something wrong.

"Don't you think that's a little hast-"

"No," Fenris spoke. He gave Dagna one more long glance before he turned and left, as if that would be the end of the conversation entirely.

Dagna leaned against the outside wall of the Hanged Man and Cedric shrugged, "I guess it can be the last time you go with  _him_. But there are plenty of other places to go, that are likely safer. It was foolish to bring you with us to the Coast, but there haven't been many bandit sightings for a while. I'm sorry about this, Dagna."

"It isn't your fault," she smiled at him, "And thank you for getting my bag for me, I had almost completely forgotten about it."

"Of course. What are friends for?" Cedric offered her a lopsided grin before he gently touched her arm, "You get better. I think I'll have free time in a few days, if you need more supplies. We can bring Aveline, I imagine."

"Thank you, Cedric," Dagna murmured, struck by the word 'friend'. She had known she felt that way, but was unsure of how anyone else saw her. She was, by and large, an acquaintance primarily through Fenris and so she did not know if that was all they saw her as.

"Oh, and if you're feeling up to it later, feel free to come by for dinner."

"I would like that."

* * *

Dagna had been feeling better and did, in fact, go to dinner at the Hawke estate that evening. Beatrice was there and Carver too, although they sat at the very opposite ends of the table and barely looked at one another. A curious thing, although Dagna imagined it had something to do with the Chantry symbol on his templar armor. Aside from their lack of communication, the rest of evening went very well. Lady Hawke, Leandra as she wished to be called, was very nice. She asked how Varric and Dagna got on, to which Hawke rolled her eyes and tried to explain that she (Leandra) was being presumptuous.

"Besides, it's Fenris that she spends most of her time with," Anders offered, sending a smile to Dagna from his spot across the table.

"That elf friend of yours?" Leandra directed the question at her children, although she apparently held no ill-will for the unrelated mage.

"One of the many, Mother," Cedric offered. "The one with the giant sword."

"Oh, with those lovely tattoos?"

"Don't let him hear you say that," her eldest son snorted into his cup of wine. Their wine, a something that tasted more like honey than wine, was much better than the ale at the Hanged Man. Or even, she thought, better than the Aggregio that Fenris drank.

"And yours, Dagna, it's lovely. What does it mean?"

The table stilled a little after the question but Dagna looked unperturbed. She finished her sip of wine before she put the cup down and looked at Leandra innocently, "It's meant to brand me. In Orzammar, where dwarves live – oh, you know that, don't you? You lived in Ferelden. At any rate, I'm not really…allowed to return. And if I do, I won't be able to go back to my family."

"Oh…oh my, I'm sorry, dear," Leandra looked extremely upset by Dagna's answer, although the dwarf merely shrugged.

"I knew the consequences of leaving before I chose to do so."

"It's quite lovely," Beatrice smiled from the end nearest Dagna. "The color suits you."

"Thank you. I don't think about it much, not after the pain stopped."

Leandra looked utterly shocked over the whole thing, and still quite upset. "Oh, dear. I am so sorry that I brought it up."

"Why? It's a reasonable question. I imagine if you had one, I would like to ask you about it too. There's nothing for you to apologize for. Fenris tells me that I ought not apologize for things that aren't my fault and I imagine the same thing goes for you, Lady Leandra."

"Oh, dear," the Hawke widow smiled kindly at Dagna, her use of the word now a term of endearment rather than an exclamation, "please, do just call me Leandra."

People were so very, very nice. Dagna left the Hawke Estate that evening feeling quite…loved.

Cedric walked her to the door, opening it to the darkness. "Would you like me to walk with you?"

"Oh, no, I'll be all right. Thank you, though. And thank you for tonight. It was lovely."

"You're welcome any time, Dagna," Cedric grinned at her, a hand rubbing his bearded chin. "And sorry about Mother."

"Like I told her, there's nothing to apologize for. I completely understand being curious."

Cedric chuckled as he leaned in the doorway, watching after her. "I suppose you do, don't you?"

He watched as she moved into the courtyard that separated his house from where Fenris stayed and, after hesitating a moment, he grabbed his sword and followed her in his civilian close, making sure not to be seen.

And Fenris followed shortly behind, unbeknownst to the human or the dwarf.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the lines or concepts of lines are from the Questioning Beliefs Quest in Act II. I tried to keep Fenris as in-character as possible, but I think I might've broken him a little. It's all in the name of love, man.

Dagna had been in Kirkwall for over a year, it now being 9:32 Dragon. She had been away from her home for a long, long time but did not feel the worse for it. Occasionally she missed her father, but as of late she had little time to think on such things.

She sat at the small table in her room, still in the same place that Varric had offered her upon her arrival in the city. She scribbled furiously on several different pieces of parchment, alternating from one to another. Books took up the rest of the table, overlapping each other when necessary. She had been able to get information from her mage friends, for that was what they were – friends, and finally had a hypothesis about why dwarves did not enter the Fade. It was a little muddled, as by her justification Fenris shouldn't have been able to either since his branding, but she was certain she would sort it out in time.

A knock sounded on her door and she jumped, causing her quill to make a stray line. She cursed in Tevene, as she had done for quite some time, and called a harried, "come in!" before she continued her frenzied writing.

"You really must be more careful," Fenris sighed as he opened the door, his sword nowhere in sight. He wore none of his armor, all of which had been left in another part of Varric' suite, as he felt it was a little unnecessary to burden Dagna's small room with such a large sword.

"Oh, hello, just one moment," Dagna said, not looking up from her work. It was longer than a moment, during which time Fenris leaned against the wall beside the door, one leg crossed in front of the other and his uncovered hands holding a bottle in front of him. Directly beside him was a bookshelf, something he imagined Varric had gotten for her (or perhaps she had purchased with her winnings from Diamondback, he thought with amusement) and it was lined with as many books as it could hold. A lot of them looked familiar, as she had taught him to read using several of them and he had asked to read others. His eyes lingered on the spines as the memories of studying with her drifted into his mind. Despite himself, he smiled a little.

That was how Dagna found him when she finally turned around, standing from her chair and wiping her inky hands across the dark breeches she wore. She began to speak before she looked up and saw him saying, "I hardly think-"

She stopped when she saw the smile on his face, which faded slowly as he turned to look at her. It did not disappear completely, although it was hardly what one would call a proper smile any longer.

"It is no matter," Fenris, his smile a little wider, pushed off of the wall. He lifted the bottle for her to read the label and she looked from the words to his face.

"But this-"

"…is your favorite."

Dagna watched him curiously, unsure of what to make of the gesture. Fenris pried the cork off and gestured to her bed to sit. There were no other options, in truth; it was not that Varric wasn't generous so much as Dagna didn't want much. They settled on the bed, both leaning their backs against the wall that ran down the long side of the bed. Dagna's stocking-covered feet did not reach to the opposite end of the bed, while Fenris' knees were near the edge of it. It was a rather small bed, but big enough for Dagna.

Fenris lifted the bottle of wine toward her, "It is for you, after all."

"What's the occasion?" Dagna inquired after taking a long sip. It was delicious, a honey wine with blueberry hints. Sweeter than Aggregio by far, but Fenris appreciated the flavor regardless. More than that, he knew Dagna did. "And thank you."

"No occasion," Fenris remarked lightly, taking a drink when she offered it back to him. He took a drink and waited a long moment, looking at her without moving his head. "A friend cannot simply do something kind?"

They sat side-by-side, close but not touching on her bed. Dagna, who had long-since valued Fenris as a friend, had never heard him call her such directly. She smiled at the word, hidden a little by her hair. It was longer now, as hair tends to be. Fenris' was cut regularly, but Dagna had not cut her hair since she left Orzammar. Her father had wanted her to keep it short but without him around, she was able to let it grow well passed her shoulders.

In addition to her hair, she had grown – not in height – much since meeting Fenris. She understood more of what things meant, how to properly interact with people. She was still too trusting for his liking but she had never lost her kindness either. And she was helping him, even if she hadn't been able to find out exactly how to get his memories back.

"Oh!" Dagna started, offering Fenris the bottle as she climbed down from the bed and moved over to her table. Beneath one of her books was another, which she brought back over to her bed. She climbed onto it, sitting facing Fenris that time. She sat with her legs to the side, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she looked at him.

Fenris had watched her as she moved, the wine still in his lap. He said nothing as she moved, his small smile still curving his lips the tiniest bit. When she rejoined him on the bed, he glanced to the book in her hands.

"This – this is for you. Cedric told me he had seen it in the Alienage. I bartered for some of my healing potions."

"Shartan? He helped Andraste free the slaves."

"I thought you might like it."

"I know of the tale, but I have never had the chance to read it myself. I greatly appreciate this, Dagna." And he did. He felt a warmth, or something like it, in his stomach and he settled the book to his side as he set his head back against the wall. Dagna took the bottle from his hand, touching the bare skin there as she did so. They touched occasionally, rarely on purpose, but Fenris remembered every time.

"So you really had no ulterior motive in coming here tonight?" Dagna asked, leaning her head gently against the wall and looking across the profile of the elf.

He did, of course. But he wasn't entirely sure where to start. "I thought you might enjoy some company."

"I always enjoy your company, Fenris," Dagna smiled at him over the bottle, her third drink in a row. "I quite enjoy the sound of your voice."

Having the wherewithal to blush, Fenris raised an eyebrow at her as he turned his head a little to the side. "Is that so?"

"Even when you're angry with me."

"I am never angry with you."

Dagna laughed at that, Fenris taken aback a little.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because you are angry much of the time."

"That is not true."

It was Dagna's turn to look surprised.

"I hope you do not think that is  _true_ , Dagna," Fenris frowned slightly, his eyebrows drawn closer with concern.

"No, not really," she responded, trying to get the smile back. She touched his leg lightly, handing back the bottle of wine. "I know, Fenris."

"You do like it, though?"

"Yes," Dagna stole the bottle again, taking a longer drink this time and settling the bottom of the bottle between them on the bed. Fenris' hand was close to her knee but not touching it, the bottle in the small v-shape that her separated knees made. "I am glad you have started telling me more about you, it gives you an excuse to talk."

Fenris chuckled at that, a rare sound and one that Dagna very much enjoyed. When he moved to take the bottle from her, his hand covered hers entirely before she relinquished her hold. As his laughter faded, his face grew more serious although still content.

"I have never spoken to someone the way I speak with you, Dagna. I had only told Cedric and Hawke as little as I could to get by. But you, I have told you more about me than either of them know. Than anyone does, really."

She was unsure of how to respond to him, hands curved lightly around her knees as she watched him. His head, tipped against the wall and his neck elongated with the act of drinking the wine. The brands on his neck rippled as he swallowed, no brighter than the dull bluish-white glow they held with no influx of emotions from the elf.

"I am glad that you feel as though you can talk to me," she took the bottle back from him, realizing it was quickly becoming closer to empty than full. "I am glad, too, that you believe us to be friends."

Fenris did not respond as she offered him the bottle, nor did he respond as she took it back from him.

"Fenris?" Dagna said, after the silence stretched on.

"Yes?"

"Did I say something wrong?"

Fenris turned to look at her and shook his head, "Hmm? No, not at all. I was just trying to think of another story to tell you."

"Have you come up with anything?" Dagna asked as she turned, her shoulder starting to hurt a little from the pressure. On a whim, Fenris lifted his arm at his side. Dagna looked at him for, what to him, seemed like ages before she settled herself beneath the raised arm. Her side was pressed to his, his arm nestled perfectly in the space between her lower back and the wall, his hand curved around so that his fingertips only lightly touched the outside of her leg, covered by her thick pants. Dagna felt a chill, although she knew she was not cold.

Fenris, using his right hand, tipped the bottle back for another drink. He felt quite warm already – granted, they had nearly polished off the bottle – but was not so eager to move from his precariously acquired spot. He offered it back to her, setting it gently on her leg. "No, I do not think I have. Although, I have thought of something to tell you."

"What is that?"

"You are…unlike any woman I have ever met," he began, sounding a little hesitant at first. Dagna had not known him to question his words much if ever.

"I know. I'm insufferable," she replied, poking him gently with her finger as she offered him the bottle again.

"No..No, Dagna, that is not what I meant to say. I have never allowed anyone too close but you-" Fenris stopped, sighing heavily. He took another long drink of the wine before he offered the last of it to Dagna, a decent mouthful or two. She took the bottle from him and switched it to her left hand, using her right to take his briefly as it lay upon his leg.

"I think I understand, Fenris."

And, as they sat with their empty bottle of wine, unspoken words, and shared stories of their lives before each other, she really thought she might. Neither of them mentioned it again that night; when they left to get more drinks, they returned to a very similar position, nestled next to each other with their bottle between them.

It was something harder than wine, which went directly to Dagna's head. They sat up for a long while, until Dagna could no longer keep her eyes open. Fenris found that she had fallen asleep during a retelling of one of his adventures with Cedric, although he was sure Dagna had heard the story many times. He moved the bottle to the floor beside her little table, not trusting himself to keep it from spilling all over her work if he tried to put it off the floor. Careful not to wake her, he removed himself from beneath her sleeping head to stand. Once he was off of the bed, he lifted her carefully and maneuvered to pull her blankets down, slipping her into her bed.

He watched her for quite some time, facing the wall as she slept. The slow rise and fall of her side brought him comfort and he reached out, touching her hair gently as he smoothed it away from her face.

She startled a little, still half-asleep and very drunk, her hand flailing a little as she reached back to find him. "Fenris?"

"Yes?"

"S…stay," she breathed, taking his hand with her as she rolled back over. Fenris smiled at her back and settled on the edge of her bed, one leg draped across the other with one foot on the ground. He did stay, for quite a while, letting her hold his hand as she fell into slumber.

He thought about joining her for the night, merely for sleeping, but as he looked at the length of her sleeping form, he was content to sit until she relinquished his hand.

When he finally emerged from her room, having blown out the candles hanging from the ceiling before doing so and grabbing the book he had nearly forgotten, he found Varric at his long table, where Fenris had left his sword and armor.

The merchant prince watched Fenris with a raised eyebrow, arms folded across his hairy chest. They held eye-contact for a long time before the shorter male broke into a grin, at which point Fenris scowled - because he wouldn't be Broody if he didn't scowl - and gathered his things, leaving as the sun came up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bad things happen.

When Dagna awoke the morning after the night of wine with Fenris in her room, she dressed slowly. If not for the disappearance of the Book of Shartan and the half-finished bottle on her floor (which she nearly spilled), she would have thought she had imagined the whole thing. She emerged eventually and found Varric at his long table, eating lunch with a plate out for her already.

"Good morning, little one," he smiled at her as she took up the chair across from him. "Or should I say afternoon?"

"Have I really slept that much of the day away?"

"It's only a little passed noon, but I imagine you were quite tired. Fenris didn't leave until well after dawn."

Dagna blushed as she lifted her fork, looking down quite pointedly. "All we did was talk."

"Before I say what I'm about to, I'll tell you one thing – you never have to justify yourself to me, little one. But – not that I told you this, of course," Varric winked at her, lifting his cup of tea to sip before he spoke again, "Fenris looked too happy for it to be 'just talking'."

The younger dwarf felt both warm and cold at the same time, her cheeks colored much the same as her hair. Her brand stood out more when she blushed, which Varric found endearing. She was like the little sister he never had, he imagined. Hawke had too many brothers already, but Dagna – she had him. He thought she knew it, too.

Dagna did not press Varric for information and they talked of their plans for the day over breakfast. Dagna intended to stay in; she had far too much work to do to leave. Varric would let her use the large table to mix the tonics she needed to make for Fenris – and the rest of the party, as it so happened. Her theory regarding the lasting effect of the mixture she had created was proven correct and so Cedric had asked her to make as much as she could. She made it for everyone, and extra for Anders' clinic. She had shown Hawke how to make it, but Dagna had much more time so she offered to make larger batches. She would have to go to the Circle, she imagined; there was something a book there might tell her, although the Knight-Commander was growing more agitated by her presence daily, it seemed. She would probably have to ask Varric to get her a copy, if he could.

Varric, for his part, had no real plans for the day. He would, likely, write for most of it or pry her for any information she would give. She had no real qualms talking to Varric about anything he asked, although the previous night might make an exception.

It was some time in the afternoon that Isabela sauntered up the stairs, bedroom eyes alighting on Dagna. "Where's Varric?"

"Down the hall, first door on the left," Dagna responded, hands stopped mid-grind as she looked after the scantily clad pirate.

Dagna heard very little of the conversation, mostly something about a Templar and would he please go to a house with Hawke? Varric and Isabela left a moment later, the former gently picking up Bianca on his way out and offering a 'have a nice day' sort of smile to Dagna.

She was at the large table, still sorting herbs into jars, when an elf messenger ran up the stairs. "Tethras?"

"He's not-"

"Here," the elf responded, looking around with darting eyes. He was practically hopping about and he left immediately upon receiving three coppers from Dagna (after she asked how much she owed him).

Now, Dagna knew it wasn't good form to read someone else's notes. However, the missive as merely rolled up. It had no seal on it and, she thought, it might be important enough to search Varric out.

It  _was_  important, but Dagna didn't send a message for Varric. She packed up all of her herb and things, setting them back into her room. She wrote a quick note on a scrap piece of parchment:

_Varric,_

_If I am not here when you return, I have gone for a walk._  
The note beside this was delivered by messenger in the afternoon.  
I hope whatever happened ended swiftly!  
Dagna

She left both letters for Varric his bed, as to avoid them being cleaned up from the table.

The missive had said something about house in Hightown and so, there was where Dagna would go. She knew that Bartrand, Varric's brother, was the last person that had been seen with the lyrium idol and she so desperately wanted to know more about it – she assumed she would not get to actually speak to Bartrand if she waited for Varric to return. Most likely because it sounded as though just about everyone wanted him dead.

He was no good to her if he couldn't answer her questions.

She traversed through Hightown in the after dinner glow of the evening sun, keeping an eye out for the estate that was described.

Finally she found it, the stairs hidden away off of the main cobblestone path. She wandered up them tentatively, a chill running down her spine. Odd, she was actually quite warm.

"Excuse me?" she called out, tapping gently on the door.

Nothing.

She then tried the handle, pushing it in gently. "Hello?"

The smell hit her first. It was familiar, dank. It was a rotting smell, one she wished she could forget. It brought up images of her mother, face bloated in death and body laid to rest on her parents' marital bed.

Shaking her head and shivering from the memory, she pushed into the house and tried to breathe through her mouth instead.

The house appeared entirely abandoned – until three men appeared through a doorway. They were dressed in regular clothing, no armor, although there were scarves around the lower half of their faces.

In addition to the smell of death, there was a sickly sweet smell that permeated even as she tried desperately not to inhale any of it. It left a cloying thickness at the back of her throat and she tried not to make her displeasure obvious.

Despite the lack of armor, the men wore axes.

Big axes.

"Oh…H-hello there, I.. I'm looking for Bartrand."

"Bartrand?" one of the men repeated and Dagna thought he was looking at her, but couldn't quite tell. His eyes were clouded over, as if he had been blinded. Or, she thought, as if he was dead.

One of the other men, without any warning, began to swing his axe in Dagna's direction. With a small scream, she dodged to the side and was just quick enough to mix the swipe. The man who had repeated the name of the dwarf whom Dagna sought was not so lucky. As the soldier had been aiming approximately to take off Dagna's head, he cut straight through the other guard's stomach.

This caused a sort of frenzy to overtake the two remaining guards and Dagna took the opportunity to turn back toward the door. Somehow, a fourth guard had settled himself between her and the door. So, without much other option, Dagna turned tail and ran for the only other door in the room. This led her further and further into the house.

Lucky breaks like that, and occasionally being small enough to be unseen, allowed her to make it to the main hall of the house. It was, for the moment, uninhabited.

But it was far from silent. There were cries coming from the second floors and, tentatively, Dagna made her way up the marble staircase. She heard a noise below her and turned in time to see a small flood of men coming from every direction below her and she scrambled, nearly falling down the stairs, in an attempt to make it to the second floor. She stood, eyes darting from one door to another. There were three of them, two open and one closed right in front of her.

On a whim, she jerked herself to the right and skidded to a halt just inside the doorway before she turned and slammed the door, seeing men making their way to the stairs.

It was a struggle, but she managed to shift a wardrobe at least half over the door. She was surprised no one came in while she did it, or perhaps it was the fear that helped her to do it.

She scampered to a corner, hiding behind an overturned table with her pack in her lap. She held tightly onto the strap and stared at the grainy wood as she held in a quiet sob.

The thudding against the door paused a moment, but grunts and cries that were muffled by the walls never ceased.

She was, she thought, going to die.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The group returned to the Hanged Man for drinks in Varric's room, the barmaid following them with mugs. Varric excused himself to lay Bianca down for a nap. When he made to place her on his bed, he saw both notes and gathered them with him and whistled as he went to join his friends.

He settled in his chair, setting the notes in front of him. He lifted Dagna's note first, reading it over the rim of his mug.

"Little one's gone out. She'll be back soon for Wicked Grace, I imagine."

"It's quite dark outside," Aveline commented, glancing at Fenris before she took a drink.

The elf grunted a little but said no words as he took a drink. He was hiding slight concern as he looked back to Varric.

The blond dwarf lifted the second letter, "She said this came-" he stopped as his eyes alighted on the words on the page.

"He's here." Varric, eyes wide, lowered his mug with a thud to the tabletop.

Hawke turned to look at him, setting a hand lightly on the dwarf's forearm, "Who-"

"Bartrand?" Cedric asked, sitting up straighter.

"He's in Kirkwall. In Hightown, to be exact. I had heard rumors from my contacts, but nothing so solid-"

Varric stopped, eyes like saucers as he lifted Dagna's note beside the one that spoke of his brother.

"Shit."

"What is it, Varric?" Hawke asked, watching the only blond in the room as Anders had decided to stay in his clinic that day. He and Cedric had had a falling out and so he was laying low for a while.

Varric was already standing when Hawke spoke, "Dagna."

Fenris pushed back from the table, standing abruptly. "What about Dagna?"

"She's gone after Bartrand. And I don't have any idea what she's going to find."

* * *

Fenris' face, which had not been happy to begin with, took a turn for the worse when they opened the still-ajar front door. There were four dead bodies waiting for them and no sign of Dagna anywhere.

"Where is she?" Fenris growled, looking around the room futilely.

"I don't know, elf, but it isn't here." Varric frowned, pushing an arm aside with his food as he pressed forward. "But I do know we can't stand here, waiting for a light to shine down on her to point the way."

Fenris shot him a look and pushed passed him, further into the estate and directly into a throng of armed and crazed guards.

It was a long, arduous process getting into the main hall, and from there it was no cake. They hadn't seen any sign of Dagna all the way through, and Fenris was chomping at the bit. They found Hugin, whom Varric recognized as Bartrand's steward. He said that Bartrand had gone insane, been cutting off bits of the servants and forcing his guards to eat lyrium.

Dagna would've been interested in why but, alas, Hugin hadn't seen her.

* * *

The noises had stopped.

There was no crying, no screaming, no scratching, no beating. There had been a lot of loud, scrambling noises and then nothing at all.

Tentatively, Dagna moved herself out from behind the table and back towards the door.

She could hear voices but couldn't make any of them out, and then a hiss sounded behind her.

She turned and her eyes nearly popped from her head. A thing, for it looked nothing like anything she had ever seen before, reared back and was taller than even Cedric. It was dark but no real color, a purple black but brown all the same. It had no real face, no discernable features – only a light, purple-blue in color, from the middle of what  _could_  have been its face. It had appendages like arms, though there were no hands at the ends. However, when it reached out to grab her, it had hands in those brief moments. She couldn't run far enough or fast enough with the wardrobe in front of the door. It didn't matter; it wrapped ethereal hands around her and picked her up, pulling back into the room and throwing her with force enough to clear the short dresser in front of the door and break through the battle and age weakened-door. She thudded once, skidding across the marble with no sense of what direction she was facing, and catching on the foot of a dead guard.

Before she lost all sense of what was going on, she felt the coolness of its presence near her broken legs.

* * *

The sound of strained, breaking wood caught the group off guard as Varric comforted his brother, whom they had chosen to save. Hawke had been able to waken him from his insanity long enough to bring Varric to the conclusion that killing his brother would be all but impossible.

And then the sickening thud of a body hitting the floor, of bones breaking. They turned their heads sharply, in time to see a brown and red blur slap onto the landing.

"Maker's breath," Hawke squeaked, pushing away from the doorway to kneel beside Dagna's broken and bleeding body. Fenris was there a step ahead of her, his hands reaching down towards the bruised face. His hands shook as he found her skin, as if he was afraid to touch her.

"Hawke, do-"

The Shade made itself apparent and Fenris, with Dagna's blood on his hands, went into a frenzy. He had all but destroyed it before Cedric could land a hit.

Chest heaving and sword thrown haphazardly back into place, Fenris fell to the floor beside Dagna once more. Hawke had been channeling as much of her healing power as she could into the girl's body and Fenris could see that she was breathing, if shallowly.

Without a word, he slid his arms carefully beneath her body and lifted her against his chest.

"We must take her to the mage. Hawke, will she last without you?"

The female twin frowned a little, feeling dizzy as she pulled herself back from healing the dwarf. "She's resisting me with every fiber of her being, but she likely will. Cedric, go to the Hanged Man and get her things. I'll do what I can on our way - we can take the cellar at the house, it'll get us there faster."

The man twin nodded and took off at a run for the Lowtown pub and Fenris followed shortly behind, taking long strides down the stairs.

"Dagna, you cannot die, you foolish girl," he whispered to her as he tried to keep her head from moving too much. Hawke tried her best to keep pace, a steady glow of blue-purple light drifting over Fenris' shoulder from the mage's fingertips.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Fenris had been unable to speak for some time, jarred to his core from the events of the day. He paced outside of the Darktown Clinic, sword set against the broken wall beside Varric.

Fenris' bare feet grew dirtier with every pass, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Every creak, cry, or noise of any sort caused his spine to stiffen as he moved to the door, trying to hear.

"I swear I will slit the mage's throat-"

"Don't, Fenris. He's helping her. And besides, Hawke is in there too. She'll be okay, Fenris."

"I do not understand how she could be so foolish!" He groaned, tearing away from the wall to begin pacing anew.

So upset was he that it had taken Cedric, when he had finally arrived, to forcibly remove Fenris from the clinic. He had been threatening Anders with every breath and Varric didn't have the strength to remove the agitated elf. Hawke had barred Anders from attacking Fenris and pleaded with the elf to stay his own hand. Eventually Cedric had been able to half-drag, half-convince Fenris into the dark space outside of the clinic to wait with Varric.

"I'm sure she has her reasons," the standing dwarf responded, eyes following Fenris' movements. "You should stop pacing, you'll wear a hole in the ground. Or your feet."

Fenris growled again, stopping only long enough to shoot a death glare at his friend.

It was a long, long night but eventually Cedric opened the door and tipped his head to the side. "She's as good as she's going to get tonight. Bea and Anders are all but collapsing and she's breathing consistently now. Anders said there're no more broken bones, but she's going to be sore for a while and she probably shouldn't get out of bed."

Fenris pushed passed him as he spoke, moving into the dark clinic. Anders and Hawke were slumped together against one of the tilted support beams, watching Dagna's chest slowly rise and fall.

"I can take her back to the Hanged Man," Cedric offered, glancing at Varric. The dwarf said nothing and Fenris shook his head, moving forward to gently scoop the unconscious girl in his arms.

"No, I will take her with me."

"Shouldn't she-"

"I will take her with me," Fenris affirmed, holding her close to his chest as her head found a place on his shoulder. "She has shown me some of her tonics, I can administer them until she wakes enough to tell me what I am doing wrong."

It sounded to Varric as though he might have been trying to make a joke but instead of saying anything, he grabbed the bag that Cedric had managed to find for them as well as Dagna's tattered pack that they had salvaged from Bartrand's lair. "I'll bring these along for you."

Fenris hesitated a moment before he lifted his eyes to the mages, huddled together and near passing out themselves.

"Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you," Anders responded weakly, his eyes lingering on Dagna. Hawke elbowed him meekly in the ribs and he shot her a look.

"We're glad she's okay," the young woman smiled slightly, "You should get her to bed though."

Fenris nodded and, with Varric in tow, left through the Hawkes' secret passage and climbed towards the elf's borrowed mansion.

* * *

Varric watched as Fenris settled Dagna into his unmade bed, tucking her in gently but not forcing her into any particular position. Fenris turned towards him and took the bags from him and they shared a long look.

"I am sorry about your brother."

"I am just sorry I wasn't there to stop her, Fenris."

"She will be all right." The way he spoke, it sounded as if he meant to reassure himself more than Varric. The blond man nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

"I know she will, despite her best efforts to the contrary. She'll be interested to know how difficult was for Hawke and Anders to heal her."

"I imagine she will." Fenris hesitated before continuing, "What do you think she meant to find out?"

Varric shrugged a little, "I bet she thought she could talk to Bartrand, find out about the idol."

The elf shook his head, white hair moving a little as he did so. "She should have waited."

"Of course she should have, but she wouldn't be Dagna if she had."

Varric thought, perhaps, he saw the tiniest hint of a small at that before he said his goodbyes and left Fenris, standing alone in the middle of his room.

With Varric gone, Fenris moved to root through the Dagna's things the other dwarf had left behind. He found countless notes, most of which were in a language he didn't understand. Dagna had taught him the Trade Tongue, but her notes were obviously not written in a plain language. Inside the bag with the notes was something that resembled a quill, although it had a stopper in it. It looked like a modified version, one that could have ink inserted to it. Or it had been such, as it was now broken and had spilled its contents into the fabric of the bag. He would, he thought, get her a replacement. He could do that for her.

In her other bag he found the jars that Cedric had taken to the clinic, mostly still full. Dagna had only imparted so much knowledge on Hawke and so the human had only been able to use what she recognized. For as many times as Dagna had administered her healing tonics to the elf, though, he recognized much of the contents. He removed one of the dried flowers and held it between long, steady fingers. There was still dried blood on them, some that had not entirely flaked off from when he had first touched her prone body. He grimaced at the sight and switched the flower to his other hand, rubbing his fingers furiously against his pant leg in an attempt to wipe the memory away. He couldn't get the image of her, broken and bleeding to death on the dirty marble floor, from his mind. He was so consumed with it that he nearly forgot she was laying only feet away on his stolen bed.

When he realized she was, in fact, alive and so very close he took the flower and sat beside her on the bed.

"I know you cannot hear me, Dagna," he spoke quietly, one hand holding the flower in his lap and the other stirring towards her shoulder. He finally gave in and let it settle on her shoulder, her body warm beneath his hand. "But you cannot die. There are things I have not yet told you and…I would be remiss if I was unable to do so."

He sat there for a long time before he shivered, realizing it had become cold. He set the flower on the pillow beside her slightly open mouth, leaving the column in so that she could breathe the pollen in. He was not familiar enough to trust himself with putting it into her mouth; he was afraid she might choke if he tried. He left her briefly to start and stoke the fire before he removed his armor and cleaned off the blood and sweat of the day. Eventually he found himself beside her again the bed, not touching but very close. He watched with sad eyes as her side rose and fell, lifting the blanking with it as she kept a good breathing pace. Perhaps not all mages were awful. Certainly they had the propensity to be so, but without healing magic she would have died. Even her tinctures could not have saved her, as far gone as she was.

The thought her dying both infuriated and terrified him, so much so that he began to pace again.

After some time of moving back and forth, a stirring on the bed caught his eye. Dagna', eyes narrowed in sleepy confusion, spoke with a voice muffled by many things – least of all the blanket. "Fenris? Come to bed," she murmured, a sleepy smile on her face before she rolled back to her side.

Relieved that she was, most certainly, alive and surprised by the demand, Fenris hesitated only a moment beside her before he did as he was told willingly, possibly for the first time in his life.

* * *

Dagna thought she must have died, for she had to be in the Fade. She was warm, if achy, snuggled into the blankets on Fenris' bed. She heard movement and turned, calling to him. And he responded. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she felt his arm fall gently across her middle and felt his warm breath in her hair. She must have died, because Fenris would have never climbed into bed with her. Would never have held her, and most certainly, as sleep overtook her, never bestowed the lightest of kisses against her fabric covered shoulder.

But if this was death, she had no complaints. Not a single one.


	13. Chapter 13

Dagna woke eventually, convinced that it was morning but finding that the sun was high in the window. She groaned a little, rolling over onto her back. She was disoriented for a long moment before she realized that she was in Fenris' much larger bed. A now-dried embrium flower lay beside where her head had been on the pillow and she smiled as she struggled to sit up.

"Oh…oh my," she groaned a little, putting hand on her head. She was filthy, she realized as she forced herself to sit against the cracked headboard. Her body ached from head to toe, as if she had been thrown down several flights of stairs. Breathing didn't quite hurt, but it was a different feeling than normal.

"You are awake," a low voice spoke from across the room and Fenris' eyes found Dagna's when she turned her head. "I was beginning to worry that the mages had failed us."

"What do you mean? The last thing I remember, I was facing this…rather large, scary monster."

"It is called a Shade. Anders informed me that it is what demons look like when they have not taken on an alternate form."

"Oh," Dagna breathed, eyes wide as she lifted the flower and held it daintily in her hands. "What…Did you save me?"

Fenris' face darkened a little and he shook his head. "No, you had already gone through the door by the time we found you."

"What do you mean?"

"The Shade threw you," Fenris' jaw was tight as he spoke, stiff in the chair by the fireplace. "You were broken and bleeding. Hawke and Anders nearly exhausted themselves trying to make sure you survived the night. Your body seemed to be almost entirely ignoring the magic."

Dagna blinked at him before she turned to look at the flower, slowly collapsing, in her hands. She was quiet for a long time.

"Thank you for bringing me here. I don't think I would have liked to wake up alone."

"I did not want you to. I needed to make certain that you are all right."

"Did…did you get any information from Bartrand?"

Fenris seemed a little perturbed at that, but shook his head regardless. "He had gone mad. Likely from the lyrium exposure. Hawke was able to help him regain sanity for a brief amount of time and Varric had him sent to the sanitarium."

"Do you think he would let me visit him?"

"Varric? Probably, although I am unsure of what you hope to gain."

"Especially if it drove him to insanity, the knowledge of this idol could prove integral to my research regarding mages and lyrium. I doubt there is much of that lyrium near the Deep Roads in Ferelden, but even so…it is important information."

"It can wait a few days, surely."

Dagna frowned, having turned her legs to the side of the bed. She was wobbly and as Fenris saw her trying to touch her feet to the ground he rushed forward, catching her.

"Hawke said to stay in bed." Fenris caught her by the sides, their faces close.

"I cannot just-"

"How about the chair, then?"

Dagna, despite her frustration, nodded a little. To her immense surprise, Fenris lifted her in his arms and moved her to the chair in which she normally sat. He held her as though she weighed nothing and set her gently on the cushion before he turned his chair back towards hers, settling it close enough for the arm rests to touch.

"I don't know if all this is necessary, Fenris."

"You very,  _very_  nearly died."

"But I am not dead now."

"But you stopped breathing, Dagna."

Her eyes widened a little as she thought upon such a thing. She lifted the crumpled flower and sniffed, inhaling the pollen.

"Is everyone else okay?" she asked, breaking the silence as she turned to look at him. Even that movement hurt. It was a dull ache, but she thought she could feel every muscle as she sat, still aside from breathing.

"Varric is unhappy but physically, the mages were both exhausted. I imagine that they are fine today, though."

"I'll have to speak to them about trying to heal they say anything about it?"

"They said only that you seemed to be fighting against the healing."

"Sounds about right, I suppose."

"Why does Varric not react similarly?"

"He never lived in Orzammar. He was never subjected to so much lyrium, as I was from birth. They say you lose your 'Stone sense' when you leave – you forget how to navigate the Deep Roads. I believe, though I have no way to prove really – that you lose your connection to the lyrium in the stone. Although, I'm not entirely sure how we don't go through withdrawals as templars do. There is so much I do not understand."

Her last sentiment amused Fenris, although she could not even begin to understand why.

* * *

The two spent three days holed up in Fenris' home, until the elf decided that the dwarf was sufficiently healed enough to walk on her own. While Dagna was frustrated with not being able to function with assistance, she would have been lying if she said she was not glad to have so much of his attention.

He did not sleep with her again, at least not that she knew of. It was the third night and Dagna was going to leave the next day, as she had finally recovered enough to convince Fenris that she could walk on her own.

Fenris had been taking very good care of her, making sure that she was fed. He had even managed to get a basin of water for her to clean off the dried blood. He had retrieved a change of clothes from her rooms at the Hanged Man so that she would not have to lounge in her filthy, torn clothing any longer.

The final evening they meant to spend together, Fenris had been able to get something decent from Bodahn for dinner and another bottle of Dagna's favorite wine. He settled a wooden chair in front of their plush ones, using it as a makeshift table to hold their food and worn mugs.

"Why didn't you just leave me at the Hanged Man?" Dagna asked, seemingly out of nowhere, as she tore a piece of bread from the loaf they shared.

Fenris had been waiting for the question, or one like it, and was surprised that it had taken her so long to ask him.

"I…I needed to be certain that you were going to be all right."

"Did you not think Varric could take care of me?"

"I needed to. I needed to know that you were receiving everything you needed. Varric has Bartrand to attend to right now, and you need to be a priority."

Dagna was a priority. More to the point, she was Fenris' priority. A thought struck her and, with the tiniest hint of blush creeping into her cheeks and wine warming her to the core, she moved her eyes to Fenris.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," he responded in a tone that made Dagna think he meant to be funny. She smiled at him and he nodded, waving his hand for her to continue.

"The first night I was here, did you lay with me?"

Fenris' face blanked for a minute before he slowly nodded again.

"I thought I had imagined it," she responded, letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"And why would you imagine such a thing?" Fenris prompted, a dark eyebrow lifted as he took a long drink of his own wine. He was beginning to take a liking to it, however different from the Aggregio it was.

Dagna was unsure how to continue. She mulled over all of the options in her mind; if he had merely been concerned about her warmth and she had imagined the kiss, she would make a fool of herself and possibly upset him. She could lose their tenuous friendship if she pressed too hard, and that was not an ending to the evening that she wished.

"I am unfamiliar with these things," she spoke after a long moment of silence passed between them. Despite her body's minor protest, Dagna curled her legs to the side in her chair and turned more to face her companion. She didn't look at him, her face turned a little down to the cup she rested on the arm of the chair. "I…I care for you, Fenris. Quite more than I imagine a friend does." Her heart, she thought, was in her throat and fluttering like a crazed bird. She felt warm but she did not believe it was the fire or the wine. "I do not wish to ruin our friendship by telling you as much, but I…Oh, I don't even know what I am saying. Please forget I mentioned it."

Fenris, who had a rather amused smile on his face, leaned towards the armrest of his chair and set his forearms upon the fabric there. His hands settled over the edge of the arm of Dagna's chair, dangling close to her but not touching. "I do not believe I can forget."

"Oh, but Fenris, I don't-" She stopped when she looked up, his fingers curving around her smaller wrists. He gently took the mug from her hands and set it on the makeshift table, one hand holding hers as the other one lifted towards her face. He seemed hesitant but, eventually, his disarmingly smooth hands brushed her cheek.

"I do not wish to forget," he emphasized, his voice low but soft. "I have meant to tell you for some time, but I could never find the words. I have no memory of ever…of feeling this way, Dagna, and I have no real idea on how to proceed."

"But…you mean to proceed?" Dagna's eyes were wide, her skin warm beneath his hand. He curved it back, tucking hair behind her ear.

"You know who I am, Dagna – perhaps better than anyone else. I would be remiss to let you go, if you'll have me."

"You are the first person that has ever meant this much to me. I am unsure of what these feelings mean. My chest feels hollow when I worry about you being hurt, out with the twins."

"I thought I was going mad when I saw you, barely breathing. I nearly knocked Hawke to the floor to get to you."

Dagna was distracted by the motion of Fenris' thumb on the back of her hand. The hand that had tucked hair behind her ear had drifted to join his other, holding both of her hands in his.

Fenris spoke again, a dark look passing through his eyes. "You are not afraid of me?"

He was, she imagined, referencing that night so long ago that he had choked her to unconsciousness. Truth be told, Dagna had almost entirely forgotten it. It wasn't something that she dwelled on.

"I am more afraid of losing you than anything. I have wanted to tell you for some time, but I was never sure. That night that you came to my rooms and we sat close beside each other, I thought maybe I could tell you. I just…I never wanted to lose our friendship."

"I have been unable to think of much other than you for weeks now. I meant to tell you that night but I could not bring myself to do it. Instead, I have waited. When I thought you might die, I knew I had to tell you. I could not imagine never having told you of my feelings."

They grew silent, the chorus provided by the fire all the noise they needed. Dagna's eyes scanned the elf, taking in as much of him as she had ever let herself. She remembered the sight of him when she had helped him bandage his wound, the way his muscles moved and flowed beneath his tan skin. The lines of lyrium, disappearing into the pants he had retained. He was much broader than any other elf she had met but still slenderer than Cedric. His muscles were toned and perhaps more prominent than other elves' too. He was tall, taller than Hawke and nearly as tall as her brother. Dagna's head came to his chest, if only barely. His features were sharp but in a comely way, his eyes a deep green color much like moss and his hair was a shock of white against it all. She thought that his hair had lost its pigment as a result of the lyrium branding, but that was not something she intended to think about at that moment.

Fenris, too, looked over his dwarven companion. She was his opposite in nearly every way, her skin far lighter than his and her hair much brighter, brilliant even. Her body was small, though he no longer thought of her as looking even slightly like a child. She was petite and thin, although her time in Kirkwall had her filling out a little. Her slightness was toned from the travelling she did from place to place and the hearty meals that the Hawkes had been feeding her had done her good. On the rare occasion that she wore dresses, mostly to dinner at the Hawkes' estate, she looked every bit a woman if a more delicate one. Her face was heart-shaped, not round, and her nose was the delicate sort. The bridge was long and uniform in shape and it was pointed a little at the end, unlike Varric's rounded nose. Her eyes were naturally wide, almond-shaped and the deepest of blues. With the blush of the conversation and the wine on her cheeks, her golden brand stood out but not in a negative way. Fenris decided that his original assertion of her being doll-like was not so far off. But this time it was an appreciation of her beauty rather than a damnation of her fragility.

"What…what do we do now?" Dagna asked, feeling breathless for the time spent in awe of him. In response, Fenris' hand lifted and his fingers slid from her cheek, down across her neck and back behind her head. He pulled her, very gently, to lean forward as he mirrored the movement.

As their noses nearly met, they were disrupted by the loud crash of the front door banging open. Fenris jerked to a standing position, nearly toppling their food as he found his sword. Heavy footsteps up the stairs and Cedric stood in the doorway, his flushed and in full armor.

"Mother's gone," he huffed, looking wild-eyed. "Meet us at Anders' as soon as you can."

And he was gone. Fenris had already begun to put on his armor and Dagna, unsure of what to do, found his gauntlets and helped him to dress. He strapped his sword across his back and moved towards the door, where he hesitated a moment. He took long strides, ending in front of Dagna again.

"For the love of the Maker, stay out of trouble," Fenris breathed, his armored hand sliding behind her and pressing gently into her back. The movement propelled her forward and Fenris bent down, crushing his mouth to hers. Dagna wanted to hold him there, to kiss him for hours. It was incredible, the feeling of him close – she had no idea what was in store for her but she loved what it was in those moments.

It ended as abruptly as it began and Fenris, with a long glance, broke away from her and made for the door.

"Stay safe," Dagna called after him as he disappeared down the stairs and into the night.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahoy.

Fenris returned the following day. Dagna had left for her rooms at the Hanged Man, a note for Fenris telling him as much so that he would not worry. He was tired, sore, and shaken as he draped himself into his chair. Leandra was dead, lost to a madman and his magic. He had not known the words to say to either of the twins and so had left them for the day.

After slumping into his chair, he saw the paper in Dagna's chair and lifted it to read. The letters were very clearly written – Fenris could read, but Dagna thought it was important to make certain he could read the letter. He stared at it for a long moment, unblinking as the fireplace sat untouched behind it.

He jerked to standing, the paper crumpling between his fingers and the armrest. Without washing, without changing into plain clothes, Fenris stalked from one end of Kirkwall to the other.

He was only halfway to Lowtown when the thunder clapped above him and lightning struck the sky; the rain followed after, soft at first. By the time he reached the Hanged Man, he was soaked through. He left wet footprints through the establishment, all along the dirty floor. Varric was not in; Fenris imagined he was trying to console Cedric as best he could. Fenris was no good with platitudes. He would visit the next day, when the wounds were not still fresh. The last thing he wanted to do was to pour salt in the wound, and his feelings about magic would like show through in an entirely unimpressive way.

Instead, he found the door to Dagna's tiny room and knocked, rather roughly, against the wood.

Dagna, who had been settled at her little work table as she often was, was struck by the sound. Varric would've likely opened the door and come right in, as was his way. They didn't stand on ceremony, although he had grown a little more wary about barging in after the night Fenris stayed over – not that they had had a chance to test the waters, as they had barely been around each other.

She pushed her chair back and moved over, opening the door to a sopping white-haired elf. He was dressed in his full armor, most of the blood having washed away in the rain. His hair stuck down on his forehead and ears, droplets still trickling from the top of his down the length of his neck.

"Oh, Fe-"

He stopped her by pulling her close, her clothing dampening as she was pressed against his armor. Instead of bending this time, Fenris lifted her with one hand on the small of her back and the other firmly on her backside. Instinctively her arms curved around behind his neck and his skin, cold and wet from the rain, warmed at her touch. Her legs too wrapped around his middle, narrowly missed the sword still strapped there. They kissed again, Fenris' end frenzied as he pushed them further into the room. He kicked the door closed behind him, managed to curve his foot around the edge of it without, miraculously, toppling the both of them.

Moving further into the room, he slowly let Dagna go to settle on the bed, removing his sword and placing it as delicately as he could on the floor at the end of her bed. As he began to take his armor off, Dagna watched him and asked, "What-"

"I needed to know you are safe," he responded, gauntlets gone the way of his sword. Dagna stood then and helped him remove his armor and sodding clothes piece by piece. When he was down to his pants, Dagna once again entranced by his marvelous chest, he curved a hand around her cheek. His hand seemed so big, his fingers touching her hair. "And I need you to know how much I care for you."

"What happened?"

Fenris shook his head, "I will tell you later. Just know now that I have realized how important you are to me. I have no family, perhaps a sister that I cannot find. Friends I have, but you are different. I cannot stop thinking about you and I do not truly mind."

Dagna reached out and put her hands on his chest, thumb rubbing along the line that his muscle made. Her hands overlapped some lines of lyrium; she hadn't ever really touched them. They were smooth and cool, but not quite cold. She stopped thinking about them almost immediately, however, as Fenris tilted her head back with a finger beneath her chin.

"I am unsure as to how to proceed, so I will just ask you. Dagna," he began, but Dagna shook her head. He frowned a little at her, feeling quite disappointed. "I understand."

"No, Fenris," she smiled at him, moving her hands to his shoulders. "I'm not saying no to the question, I was trying to tell you that you don't have to ask."

With another of his rare, beautiful smiles Fenris let his hands slide to the lowest part of her shirt, tugging at it gently to remove it from the waistline of her breeches.

Not a single soul had seen her without as much clothing as she wore on a daily basis since she was a small child and her parents had been forced to bathe her. Fenris' state of undress was the most she had ever seen of another person. She had never touched another person's chest beside Fenris, had never been so intimately close to someone as she was when she stood before him in her breastband and breeches while he stood in only his close-fitting thick fabric pants.

Her chest was more ample than Fenris had expected; the clothing she wore was rarely well-fitting and her frame was still quite small. She seemed even smaller without clothing on, though taller somehow. He let his warm hands settle on her bare sides, covering the curve of her waist above her hips.

They spent quite some time merely reveling in each other's bodies as they continued to undress each other; Fenris was as entranced by the delicate nature of her as Dagna was by the muscled beauty of him. She felt warm all over as his hands trailed across her skin, taking time just to touch her as they came to stand naked in front of each other. Her cheeks were flaming with color, only mostly from embarrassment, and Dagna could see the lightest of pinks darkening the lines of his cheekbones.

She was distracted by looking at him, so much so that she did not see his hand move as he reached out to pull her close again. He had her in his arms, holding her in much the same way he had when he arrived but with a hand between her shoulder blades rather than low on her back. It was incredible to Dagna that he could hold her up, even with the added help of her arms and legs. He seemed no worse for it though, as he tilted his head and nudged her hair out of the way so that he could kiss the curve between her neck and shoulder. With so little space on the wall beside her bookcase, Fenris opted to press her against the worn wood of her door and let the hand that held her back slide to the side of her neck that he was no longer kissing. He opted to kiss her roughly on the mouth, still full of care but more poignantly full of need.

At first she was shy, afraid to do something wrong. It was difficult for her to let go, to fully embrace what was going on in those moments because she wanted more than anything for it to continue. When his hand covered her bare breast, the roughness of his palm causing tingles to shoot through her at the newness of the feeling, she couldn't remember why she felt shy. She had very little clue as to what she was doing, but it slowly became natural as he continued to kiss her. He moved them again, laying her gently on the bed before he positioned himself on his side along her length. His hand started low on her thigh and he traced a slow path up, swirling his finger gently across her skin all the way to her chest, teasing her by moving close to the patch of dark red hair between her legs without touching it exactly. His fingers skimmed her breasts before kneading them gently, his lips busy with hers. She was all but squirming with his light touches, his own desire apparent against her hip.

He moved after quite some time, no longer content with merely touching her. He lifted himself over her, one elbow pressing into the mattress and his knees bent to help hold him up. His hand, the other one this time, brushed her cheek as he leaned to kiss her again.

"You are quite beautiful, Dagna," he murmured as he broke the kiss to trail down her neck, mouth connecting with a nipple. He smiled against her skin at the noise she made, stiffening even more between his legs at her reaction. His other hand had moved from her face to the breast that he was not already toying with and the slight movement of her hips towards his made it difficult for him to stop from taking her rather immediately.

"You are incredible," she breathed, one hand lifted to his shoulder and the other gently caressing his hip. And Fenris didn't immediately think she was talking about his branding. He realized as he moved back, settling on his knees beside her now-spread legs, and looked over her deliciously needy body that she meant it. When she looked at him as his hand found the warmest part of her, the gasps and moans escaping her throat, that he was more than just lucky to have her. The Maker had smiled on him that night in Lowtown, despite the frustrations she had originally caused him. An ex-slave and a fugitive, he had found something in Dagna that he had never expected to know. This was why, sometime later after giving her the first soul-shaking orgasm of her life, as he brought his body over hers again to finally join them together he thought he might cry. He did not, but the hollowness in his chest was the sort of feeling that preceded intense emotion. Their love-making was slow and tender for quite some time, before Dagna – without hesitation – asked him for more. He lost all other thoughts then, the Maker gone from his mind as they reached their climaxes nearly together. He stayed above her, enveloped inside her, for a long moment. He kissed her over and over, her arm lazily draped over his shoulder and her fingers in his hair.

His hand brushed her hair away from her face, kissing her one final time before he placed himself along the side of her body again. They moved, with no intention of dressing any time soon, so that he was on his back and she was curved along his side. They spoke no words as she settled beneath his arm, against his chest. Her hand traced lines on his chest and eventually they began to followed the lines of lyrium without a thought. When she turned her head to kiss him, her lips pressed against a brand without any thought.

Fenris nearly jumped out of his skin at the feeling, eyes wide and then shut tight.

"What-" he started, jerking a little and causing Dagna to sit up to avoid accidentally being hit.

"What's wrong?" she frowned, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I.." Fenris started, lifting a hand to his head. "I am remembering…When you touched me, I could see…I have some memories, some ideas of what happened before-"

He stopped suddenly, his face falling as he lifted his hands to grasp at his hair. "They're gone. They were there, I could see… _I saw my mother_ ," he hissed, his head dropping in defeat.

"But you got them back," Dagna responded quietly, feeling suddenly very naked. She was trapped between Fenris and the wall, not wanting to climb over him for her clothes. "That's good, it means it is possible."

"What is the point if I am just going to lose them again?" he growled, standing suddenly. He found his clothing without another word, dressing quickly and haphazardly. Dagna remained seated on her bed, unable to form words. Was he leaving? After that? After showing her how much he cared for her?

"I do not think this was wise," Fenris spoke, replacing his sword on his back.

"Have I….did I do something wrong, Fenris?" Dagna frowned, feeling the prick of tears in her eyes. She didn't understand. Wasn't remembering good? Why was he being so cold?

"No…no, Dagna, it was not…It was perfect.  _You_  were perfect. Are. I was wrong to think that I could have you, be with you. Be happy. Forgive me, Dagna, but I cannot…" He shook his head and left her there, closing the door behind him as she sat naked on her bed and cried for the second time in a week. The first time was in fear for her life, certainly, but the second was entirely for her breaking heart.

She had been right to question whether or not she was going to lose Fenris when she told him of her feelings. Despite the brilliance of it all, she would have given it up to go back to just being friends. She feared, rightfully so, that nothing would ever be the same.

Fenris left the Hanged Man that night, cold to his core. He hurt everywhere, his branding singing with pain that matched the feeling inside of him. He had it all, his memories and Dagna, and had lost them both in a matter of minutes. He had been a fool to think that he, an ex-elf and a fugitive, could be happy. Even the memory of their time together was tainted with pain, remembering the look on her face as he turned and left her by herself.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cedric (m!Hawke) to the rescue!

Dagna did not dwell overlong on the incident with Fenris. When he left, she felt very alone and also quite sore – however, after slowly removing herself from the bed, she found her clothing and replaced it all. She walked slowly, careful of her body, and wiped at her face to erase the tracks of her tears. Before too much time had passed, she had seated herself back at her table and began another round of research.

She realized, as she heard whom she thought was Varric wandering about in the other rooms, that Fenris had never told her what had brought him to her rooms that night. So, leaving her ink to dry, she left the room and found Varric with a large mug of ale and a distraught Cedric at the main table in his rooms.

The look the dwarf gave her was a sad one, a long look that bespoke quite a lot. Cedric lifted his head from the table and red-rimmed blue eyes found Dagna's.

"Is it Hawke?" Dagna blurted, moving over without thinking about it.

Cedric frowned but shook his head, "No, she's…she's alive. It's our mother. She…she's gone."

"Oh, Leandra," Dagna sighed, her lips turned down as she moved over to the table. She sat a small, gentle hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry, Cedric."

Instead of waving her off, yelling at her, or anything that Fenris might have done, Cedric covered her hand with his as he slid his foot to push out the chair nearest him. "I know, Dagna. Thank you. You should sit and drink with us."

"Only if you promise to let me make you some tea later," she responded, thinking that some embrium might do him good. His smile was wan, tight but he nodded a little and Dagna moved from standing beside him to sitting instead. A barmaid came back soon and replaced Cedric and Varric's mugs, returning almost immediately with another one for Dagna.

Hawke was with Anders; Dagna didn't really understand, she thought that the brother and sister would want to be together. Apparently, Cedric didn't quite understand either. The drunker he got, the closer he moved to Dagna. He was all but spilling into her chair when the fourth round came and she wasn't far behind.

They had been quiet for quite some time, the more alcohol the more they began to speak. Varric did most of the talking, spinning tales to distract all parties involved. As Cedric's arm wound behind Dagna's shoulders, the arms of their chairs touching, he leaned in a little and spoke over Varric.

"You and Fenris," Cedric began, lifting his mug to drink from it again.

Dagna, who held her mug in two hands, took a very long drink before she looked at him directly. "What about us?"

"Is there an 'us'?" He asked, missing Varric's wince entirely.

"Not in the way you believe, I don't think," Dagna responded, much to the surprise of the other two. "No, he is entirely disinterested in the idea of anything more than a business relationship between the two of us."

"He's a bleeding moron," Cedric snorted, his fingers toying with her hair.

Varric shook his head, sighing a little. "We all assumed he would have figured it out by now."

"Figured what out?"

"That the two of you make so much sense, it's incredible that you've both missed it for so long."

Dagna was struck by his words and she slumped a little in the chair, leaning into the arm that Cedric had left there. "Apparently he does not agree," was all she said as she finished her mug and waited, rather impatiently, for a refill.

Varric wasn't sure what it was, but something felt different that night. He watched as Cedric, whom had just lost his mother, and Dagna, whom had just lost Fenris though Varric didn't know it yet, all but snuggled with each other on their chairs. He had not known Dagna to act in such a way, nor had he known her to get so intoxicated. But she was doing both, practically climbing into Cedric's seat.

They weren't inappropriate; they didn't touch anything that ought not to be touched, they didn't kiss, they didn't even hint at anything. To Varric, it seemed that the two just needed someone to be close to. Who was he to question that?

Cedric had no desire to return to his estate that night; it would be too lonely without Hawke there, and too many memories to handle quite so soon. Much to their surprise, Dagna offered him her bed. The eventual resolution is that they would sleep in the bed together, which surprised Varric but seemingly had no effect on the two drunker individuals. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but he also didn't believe it was his place to tell two grown adults that they were making a questionable decision.

Cedric hadn't realized how small Dagna's bed was, although he was still able to barely fit into it. The space required them to either sleep sideways or one practically on top of the other, the latter of which worked for them as they both decided cuddling was the best way to combat their combined sadness.

"Something happened, didn't it?" Cedric asked in the dark, Dagna's head resting high up in his chest.

"He left," Dagna responded, feeling a little sick and a little hollow.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so. Sad, but all right."

"Me too," Cedric responded, resting his cheek atop her head. "It's the strangest thing. I was so angry and now I am just…sad. I'm sad that she is gone, but the anger has left me feel so…hollow."

"I know what you mean," Dagna responded, her arm lifting to drape across his middle. He was muscled much like Fenris, but she imagined his shirtless torso would be an entirely different sight to behold. Not that she was imagining his naked torso, or had any intention of seeing it. "Although I wasn't ever angry, I don't think. Just more sad. Sadder."

"He's a fool," Cedric responded, his arm curving beneath her to hold her a little closer. There was nothing sexual about the way that they laid; intimate, perhaps, but not sexual. "And I'm sorry."

"Unless you're the one that told him to leave, you don't have anything to apologize for. I am just sorry that we won't be friends any longer."

Cedric was struck by that; there was only one thing he could imagine happening that would result in such a great distance. Okay, with Fenris maybe more than one. But Cedric's mind went immediately to what had actually happened. "I hope you don't think that means that we're not friends any longer."

"No, not really. I might have some time ago, but I know that you value my friendship as I value yours and that it is separate from Fenris."

"Good," Cedric nodded a little in the dark, shifting a little. The arm that did not hold Dagna was pressed slightly against the wall, his feet almost off the edge of the bed. Despite what could be physical discomfort, he felt much better than he had for most of the day.

Silence overtook them for a brief amount of time, Cedric's heartbeat loud in Dagna's ear. But it was there, and that was good.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Dagna asked.

Cedric seemed to be holding his breath, though eventually he let it out in a long sigh. He began to recount the happenings that had led to that day. He told her about the man that had captured a woman in his home, about the templar that had led him to the clues, about the flowers and how he felt the moment he realized what was going on. His voice grew a little shaky as he spoke about the blood in streets, the unfortunately familiar warehouse. He had to stop occasionally as he spoke about finding the dead women, the picture of someone that looked far too much like his mother, and finally the blood mage that had ruined everything.

For once, Dagna had no questions to ask about the magic. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was curious. Her affection for Cedric and Leandra, however, kept any such questions at bay.

To her surprise, he then began to talk about how being left by Hawke felt. How he had expected her to return to the estate with him, not turn immediately to Anders. How he had felt so incredibly alone with the loss of his mother, how scared he was to tell everyone. Carver, Bea, Gamlen. He thought Carver was going to punch him and Gamlen very nearly did. Beatrice had grown pale before begging off to disappear somewhere he did not know.

And all of this left him alone again. Aveline had paid her respects, tried her best to comfort him. Isabela had offered him company, but it wasn't the sort he was interested in at the time. Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana were all kind but it wasn't enough. Eventually Varric , after seeing the pirate captain leave Cedric's room, climbed the stairs to offer Cedric a drink and some company.

He was glad not to be alone, and even more glad when Dagna had found them. "I knew you wouldn't expect anything from me. We can just lay here as friends and be alone together."

Dagna would not ask for what Isabela had offered him, she would not expect him to kiss her, or pay any special attention to her. She wanted his friendship and he wanted hers; that was all they needed that night, just not to be alone with someone that cared without judgment.

"It is nice not to sleep alone," Dagna replied, closing her eyes as she held him a little tighter for a brief second.

"You should move into the estate," he blurted, surprising both of them.

"You don't mean that, you're drunk."

"So are you," Cedric laughed, the sound causing Dagna to giggle. She  _was_  drunk. "And I do mean it. We have plenty of room, and a very large library that you would find quite useful. The rooms are bigger, and so are the beds."

Dagna laughed again, still not sure what to make of his offer. He continued, trying to get her to say yes.

"Bea is almost never there. Carver probably won't visit any more, now that Mother's gone. My sister is so caught up in Anders that I don't even know if she realizes I exist anymore."

That was what really struck her; the two had been nearly inseparable, or so the stories went. They were still quite close when Dagna first met them, but they seemed to be growing further apart by the day.

"If you really mean it tomorrow, when you're not drunk, I will."

"If you really mean that tomorrow, when you're not drunk, I'll buy up all of the blueberry wine I can find."

The two of them both laughed a little before the silence grew again. Slowly, the two of them began to fall asleep.

* * *

When Cedric woke up the next morning, his whole body was sore. It wasn't something he was particularly unused to but the hangover was. Dagna stirred at his side and he smiled a little. Yes, he had been drunk – but not so drunk that he didn't remember anything. She had been right, it was nice not to sleep alone. It was also nice to wake up with someone next to him.

"You're still moving in, right?" Cedric asked as Dagna slowly sat up, allowing him to do the same.

"So you  _were_  serious?" the dwarf asked as she climbed down from her bed, stretching in the middle of the room. "What do you think Varric will say?"

"After last night? I imagine he'll be concerned that I'm going to try and lure you into  _my_  bed," Cedric chuckled, stretching his legs as he sat at the edge of Dagna's bed.

"Well, last night was nice," she shrugged a little, not entirely understanding the innuendo in his words. Cedric laughed again, then, and stood. He was a little taller than Fenris, enough for Dagna to notice – he was also broader. His waist tapered like Fenris' did, but was still wider even with how fit he was. He was handsome, as far as humans go, with a strong jaw, and prominent nose, and his kind blue eyes. His dark beard was a little longer than normal but still rather close to the skin, his practically black hair askew atop his head from sleep.

"Yes it was," he responded, finding his shoes at the end of the bed to put them on again. "You can even have the room next to mine; Beatrice has one on the first floor. She comes and goes a lot, it was easier for her. Being closer means we'll have more opportunities like last night."

His mother's room would remain untouched for quite some time, something that no one ever really commented on. He locked the door with a skeleton key and occasionally ventured in just to sit on her bed. He was a strong man, both physically and mentally, but there were times when he faltered.

Dagna wondered, as Cedric spoke about getting her a larger desk and a bigger bed, what he really meant by all of it. Perhaps he was trying to distract himself from the loss of his mother by creating a project out of her. Perhaps he knew, not that Dagna did, that her moving into the Hawke estate would drive Fenris absolutely mad with jealousy. She also wondered, just a little later that day as they began to move things with the assistance of friends and hired help, what the intention really was. Was it truly because Cedric was lonely? Was there something she was missing?

They had everything moved by the evening, Dagna set up in the room beside Cedric's with a bed larger than any she had ever seen. She could get swallowed up in all of the blankets and sheets, but she was rather appreciative of it all the same. The bed was even larger than Fenris', with a canopy over it like Hawke's. He promised bookshelves lining the walls within the week, the bookshelf Varric had gotten her was the only one in the room. The desk she had had at the Hanged Man was a part of the décor and so her things were in the library while the commissioned desk was being finished. Cedric even told her that he would buy her new clothing, if she wished it. He seemed intent on spending money and Dagna hardly knew what to say about it all.

"I'll have to make appearances," Cedric finally commented, leaning in the doorway of her new room. "And I'll need someone to come with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't very well bring a sister that has no interest in being around me lately. My cousin is practically a ghost. Isabela is pirate captain that refuses to put on clothes, which would make a scandal. Merrill would likely unleash some sort of demonic being if frightened."

"But I'm a dwarf," Dagna responded, taken aback by the suggestion. "What about Aveline?"

"She's got Donnic now. Everyone knows that, and it would likely be more trouble than it's worth trying to explain to everyone that no, we're not having an affair."

"Are they going to think we are?"

Cedric laughed, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair. "I imagine so. Is that a problem?"

"I suppose not. I could do much worse."

"Is that a joke?"

"A compliment, more like."

"Varric would be proud," Cedric, again, let out a chuckle. Dagna was surprised he was so easy to laugh the day after his mother's death but she was not unfamiliar with this grieving tactic. Denial, mostly. Pushing it away, not dealing with it. Avoidance. Denial and avoidance had been her father's mantra when her mother died. She had, at first, thought he'd gone crazy. She didn't believe that Cedric was coming unhinged, but she was worried about him.

"If you would like, I'll have a tailor come over tomorrow."

"You really don't have to do all of this, Cedric."

"I need a partner in crime," he grinned at her, fingers toying with the coin he still wore around his neck. His sister's face, on the side that his thumb often rubbed, was slowly growing fainter. The irony was not lost on him.

"If you insist, I suppose I can take a few hours out of my research tomorrow to let someone measure me. I haven't ever had anything made specifically for me. My clothes have all been hand me downs, either from my father or my mother. They rarely fit well."

"How do you feel about dresses?"

"I haven't worn one since I left Orzammar, but I imagine I can't show up in pants to those dinners you are always talking about."

"There's a blue color I saw in the alienage the other day, I think it would look nice on you," Cedric commented offhandedly and Dagna felt a blush in her cheeks. Their conversation soon veered away from clothing and more onto banal things like what Cedric's plans for the week were and whether Dagna would go to the Circle the next day.

Orana had climbed the stairs to inform them of dinner but Cedric asked if they might take it in Dagna's room and so the plates and things were brought up for them. Dagna had never in her life had a servant, though she had been over at the Hawke estate frequently enough to understand that Cedric barely treated them as such. For the most part, the elf and the dwarves wandered around the house and did whatever they pleased. Orana had taken a long time to do more than sit while not being called upon. She remembered Cedric's frustrations with that, wanting to make sure that Orana knew she was no longer a slave in the least. Eventually the girl began to do things without being asked.

A thought struck Cedric as Orana began to leave Dagna's room, "Orana, can you read?"

The mousy girl shook her head, "No, ser, I can't."

"Would you like to learn?"

"Why yes, ser, I would. There are so many books with lovely pictures in your library, it would be wonderful to know what they say."

"Dagna, have you the time to teach her?"

The dwarf nodded immediately, more than happy to help. "I taught Fenris, so I have some ideas about the process. If you wouldn't mind waiting until the day after tomorrow, we can spend as much time as you need a day on it."

Orana was beaming brilliantly, her eyes wide in excitement. "Oh, thank you, ser and serrah! I will make sure to have all of my work done."

"Don't worry yourself about that," Cedric waved his hand. "Just do what you can. You'll still be paid, you know that."

It was true; Orana had been sick for a few weeks earlier in the year and, despite the fact that she had not been able to work, Cedric had still insisted on paying her.

The elf left the room practically floating; she couldn't want to tell Sandal the good news. Dagna could hear him say "enchantment!" from her room.

"Thank you," Cedric spoke, back against the wall as he sat on the rug on Dagna's floor. They sat beside each other on the floor, no chairs to speak of yet and not wanting to get food on the bed. The faced the bed, along the wall that was perpendicular to the door. The fireplace was to their right, along the wall with the door in it. There were so many fireplaces in this house, Dagna was quite surprised. She hadn't seen one of those, either, until the Circle. There had been firepits and things like them, but nothing like what Cedric had. She imagined that the nobles had them, but she hadn't ever been in a noble household.

"You don't have to thank me. I think everyone should be able to read if they want to."

"Don't you have a lot of research to do, though?"

"Always!" Dagna grinned, lifting the large mug of wine to her lips. It was odd drinking out of glasses as she was so used to drinking straight from the bottle with Fenris. "But that doesn't mean I'm too busy to help her. There are plenty of hours in the day. I'll just have to go to the Circle early tomorrow to get what I need."

"If there is any book you know you'd like, let me know. I might be able to get a copy for you."

"Thank you, I will," Dagna responded, taking a few bites of food before Cedric began to make conversation. They spoke about the room, the books she had, the research she had been doing. Cedric kept on asking her questions and Dagna had no problem answering them.

They were mostly done with their meals, it having taken much longer with the conversation occurring, when Orana appeared in the doorway again. "There's someone here to see you, ser."

"Well then," Cedric said, standing in one fluid motion from the wall and offering a hand down to Dagna. "Would you like to come with me?"

"I suppose I could, if you'd like," Dagna bent down after standing to retrieve her mug. Cedric laughed a little as she did so but didn't say a word about it. As the two of them moved to the doorway, Orana slipped in and gathered up the plates. When they were out in the open hallway, the main room on the first floor easily visible, they saw Fenris milling about. Dagna squeaked and tried to fight the urge to hide behind Cedric, who gave her an odd look at the noise she made.

"Fenris?" Cedric called, and the elf turned to face him at the top of the stairs. He crossed the floor and then climbed the stairs. Dagna had backed away a little, trying to stay out of sight without being obvious about it. She nervously sipped what remained of her wine.

"I am not sure what to say, only that I thought you might wish for some company." He frowned at Cedric as he came to stand beside him on the landing, his back turned to Dagna. She wasn't sure if he had seen her and was ignoring her, or if he had missed her entirely. Fenris wore no armor and his sword had been left downstairs. His feet were bare, as always, and his long-fingered hands lifted as he folded his arms over his chest.

"We've only just finished dinner, if you would like something," Cedric asked, finding the sewn-in pockets on his decadent robe. He had quite taken to the noble life; he loved the feel of the rich fabric almost as much as he appreciated the colors that it came in. Having been a part of a family that had scraped by for most of their existence with six mouths to feed, it was a nice change of pace.

"Is Hawke here, then?" Fenris asked, turning his head to look for the other twin. Who he saw, however, was not someone he had expected. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Dagna responded, sounding quite a bit more resolute than she felt. "Cedric wanted some company."

Fenris' jaw clenched and he looked at Cedric for confirmation, who nodded in the affirmative. "We moved her in today."

The elf simply stared at him for a long moment. Eventually Cedric turned to Dagna, "Would you mind if spoke alone for a moment?"

Dagna shook her head and offered Cedric a weak smile before she turned tail back to her room. She closed the door quietly and took her mug with her to her bed.

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Cedric moved toward his room and motioned for Fenris to follow. It was a long, heavy moment between them before Fenris finally did join him.

They moved into Cedric's room, the fire having been started by Bodahn quite some time before.

"Why is she here?" Fenris asked without waiting for Cedric to close the door over, leaving it just a little off the frame.

"Because I asked her to live here."

" _Why_?"

"Because there is more room for her things and for her in general." Cedric paused briefly before he frowned at the elf, "And I don't want to be alone, Fenris. I'm tired of being alone."

"What about Bea? Hawke?"

"Bea is out most of the time, doing whatever it is she does and my sister spends almost every minute of the day in Anders' presence. It would appear that she wants little to do with me anymore."

"What do you intend to do with her?" Fenris asked, his voice hard.

Cedric was taken aback by the question, eyes narrowed as he looked over Fenris and tried to understand his meaning. "Do with her? I'm not quite sure I get your meaning. I intend to live with her, eat with her, speak with her. I intend to enjoy my time with her, as she is one of the kindest people I know."

The human knew that he was somewhat goading the elf although he knew he could easily make it worse.

Fenris' fist clenched at his side; Cedric saw it but said nothing, and Fenris kept it where it was. "So I take it you are doing all right, then? That is why I came by. I do not know what to say, but I thought I must say something."

"My mother died yesterday, my sister has chosen Anders over me, my brother won't speak to me, my uncle wishes me dead," Cedric listed the terrible things going on in his life with almost a comedic sound to his voice, lifting his hand to scratch his chin as he thought. "But Dagna moved in. While that does not outweigh anything, it does make everything hurt a little less. It will be nice to have such lovely company."

Fenris was taking everything he said quite more intensely that he meant it, and Cedric had assumed as much. He was intentionally being cryptic by that point, although Fenris thought he knew exactly what Cedric meant.

"I must go," Fenris spoke through clenched teeth, heading for Cedric's door. "I am glad you are all right."

Cedric had to suppress his laughter, as the elf's voice sounded anything but glad. Fenris left him, moving into the hallway. He stopped at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing, as he looked over to Dagna's door. He stood there for quite some time, staring at the wood as if trying to see through it. With a heavy sigh, he turned his attention to the stairs and began to make his descent, walking away again.


	16. Chapter 16

Fenris left the Hawke estate that night, entirely convinced that he had made a terrible mistake the day before, leaving Dagna. He could not take it back even if he wanted to; he had to push her away because he could not handle what she gave him. She meant too much to him, she was too important. Besides, she was with Cedric now – wasn't she?

Fenris' fists clenched and unclenched as he made the short walk across the Hightown courtyard to the door of his borrow mansion. He didn't believe that there was anything more than friendship between Cedric and Dagna, but it still irked him that she was living there. He couldn't exactly name why; perhaps because Cedric could have what he could not. The thought made his blood boil as he climbed the stairs, heading directly for a bottle of Aggregio.

At the Hawke estate, Cedric had found his way back to Dagna's room. He knocked on the door and it was a moment before he heard her voice welcoming him into the room.

He would be lying if he said he didn't notice her face fall a little when she realized it was Cedric rather than Fenris. He understood. He moved over to her bed and took up a seat beside her, her legs dangling over the edge while his feet were planted firmly on the ground.

"He's gone, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"I didn't imagine much different, although I had hoped he would speak to me. He didn't speak a word directly to me, I don't think."

Cedric frowned and put a light hand on her shoulder. "He will come around eventually, Dagna. Did he say why?"

"Memories," she blurted, not really thinking about whether it was a good idea to tell him. "He was remembering things, and then they went away. It upset him. I'm not…entirely certain why this led him to leave, but there is plenty about him that I do not understand."

Cedric laughed a little, removing his hand and setting it on the bed between them. "He is quite mysterious, isn't he? I imagine it's painful. Difficult to want something so much, to get it, and to lose it all over again." He raised an eyebrow, leaning back on his elbows as he looked over at her. "It's probably not unlike how you feel about him."

Dagna's cheeks flushed at the comment and she bent over the mug, staring at the small amount of liquid at the bottom of the cup. "Do you think, if I could figure out what happened, he would come around?"

"I cannot tell you for certain, but if he truly cares about you – which he must – I think it might help. Even if you can't help him get his memories back, knowing what did it – maybe what to avoid – might lead you two to back where you belong."

"I know  _what_  did it," she murmured, cheeks still bright red, "I'm just unsure as to  _why_."

Cedric laughed a little and sat up again, "Well you're one step in the right direction, then, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am." She turned to him and put her little hand over his much larger one. "Thank you. For everything, Cedric."

"What are friends for, little one?" he responded with a grin, squeezing her hand gently. "It's my responsibility, as your friend, to make sure that you are quite all right."

"What about you? Are you all right?" Dagna frowned a little, turning to face him by bringing a leg onto the bed.

Cedric shrugged a little, his hands now in his lap. "As all right as I can be, I imagine."

"You just aren't…well, you aren't grieving the way most people do. My father went a little mad, holding it in."

"Are you afraid I'll go crazy?" Cedric laughed, shaking his head. "I am just used to being the strong one, I suppose. It was always my responsibility to be the…well, the rock, I guess. I am so used to it that I don't think I could cry if I wanted to."

"If you ever do," Dagna began, reaching out to curve her fingers over his forearm, her palm pressed against skin, "I am here. It doesn't matter what I am doing – my door will always be open, quite literally."

"It was closed just now," he smiled at her, poking fun.

"That was an extenuating circumstance. I was hiding from Fenris."

"Well, that certainly isn't going to help him remember why he is a moron for leaving."

Dagna couldn't help herself and so laughed with Cedric at his comment. She moved closer to him on the bed, facing out again as she rested herself beneath his welcoming arm. She was hesitant at first, worried that it was their inebriation that had him so close to her the night before. But her friend held her as they sat in companionable silence, until Cedric began to talk again. She liked that he could talk; his voice was low, like Fenris'. It lacked the same accent, although there was one – the Ferelden accent was unmistakable, although not entirely unpleasant. It was a nice, soothing voice. He was a nice, soothing person.

"Well," Cedric began as Dagna nearly lost her mug to the floor as her hands relaxed in sleepiness, "I suppose it is time for bed for the both of us."

"We just ate dinner, didn't we?" she asked with a yawn, climbing down from the bed to put her mug on the nightstand.

"We've been in here for hours, I imagine. We also had a long day of moving. And you have plenty to do tomorrow."

Dagna shrugged and then nodded slightly. She couldn't really argue with him on those points, even if she felt as though she should stay awake for much longer.

Cedric climbed off of her bed and took up the mug in one hand, "It's best to leave it outside the door, that way they'll take care of it faster."

"Having someone to clean up after me is so strange," Dagna responded, moving over to lean against her wardrobe. She now had pajamas, although they were slightly too big for her. The nightgown, which was meant to brush above her knees, nearly dragged on the floor. It wasn't quite long enough for her to trip on, but relatively close.

"It is quite nice, though," Cedric grinned and reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Sleep well, Dagna."

"And you too," she smiled back at him, lifting her hand to cover his briefly before they parted and Cedric moved to the door. He took the handle to pull the door closed but Dagna shook her head.

"I told you I would leave it open," she finalized, still smiling, and found the nightgown. She moved over to the corner of the room that could not be seen through the open door.

"Very well, then," Cedric nodded, letting go of the handle and moving into the hallway. He set the mug down gently outside her door and dropped a copper beside it before he moved towards the door of his room.

In all honesty, Dagna hadn't thought about the concept of changing with the door open. It was not such a problem, honestly, as the corner was quite hidden from the doorway. She imagined she would have to close the door if Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana were awake – they might stumble in on her changing, accidently. She would amend her statement to Cedric the following day.

As Cedric left Dagna's room, he chuckled a little. She was quite odd, but in the best possible way. He appreciated her attempts to comfort him, even if he did not acknowledge needing to be comforted. She was there, which was more than he could say about anyone else.

As he closed the door to his bedroom behind him, undressing the moment he stepped into his room, he stood naked for a moment in front of his wardrobe.

The fire near him was low but would last through most of the night. Dane, the Hawke mabari, was with his sister at the clinic. Even his dog was abandoning him.

He opened the door to the wardrobe, staring at the clothing but not seeing it. Blindly, he reached for something to wear to bed and found light pants. While most people opted for more propriety in a noble household, Cedric still preferred comfort. He had no shame in his more than slightly scarred torso; it was well-muscled from training and practice, a dark patch of hair in the middle, leading down to his bellybutton and a little further too. He wasn't quite as hairy as Varric, certainly, but much harrier than the elf with whom he had spoken earlier. His skin was tan, at least the skin that was exposed most of the time. His chest was lighter, mostly untouched by the sun, but not markedly so. On long legs, he moved towards his bed and laid atop the covers, putting his hands behind his head atop the pillow.

He stared at the rich, dark red fabric of the canopy above his head and focused on his breathing, then on his heartbeat.

He was not entirely truthful with Dagna. He ached. His heart, mostly. He had not been sleeping well, aside from the alcohol-induced coma of the previous night. Or sleeping much at all. Even before his mother had died, he had trouble closing his eyes. There was too much wrong. The Qunari were growing restless and the Arishok was starting to frighten Cedric. He was unsure what to do about anything, which left him feeling uneasy. If he did not sleep, perhaps he could solve the problems of Kirkwall.

He lay like that for a long time, the sound of the fire and the quiet chirping of crickets outside the only noises he heard. Eventually, though, there was a light knock on the door. Everyone in the house had grown accustomed to his state of undress while ready for bed. Occasionally he would walk around without a shirt after a bath, or just because he could. It had concerned Orana originally, but quickly she gave up trying to avoid looking at him as it made her job more difficult.

"Come in," he spoke, sitting up in bed and leaning his back against the large stack of pillows behind him.

Dagna stood in the doorway, leaning a little against the door as if unwilling to come in.

"I couldn't sleep," she frowned a little as Cedric waved her in further. "It's too big."

Cedric laughed and patted the bed beside him. "Maybe I'll make it a little smaller."

And so, trying not to stare at the chest that was so different from Fenris', Dagna moved around Cedric's bed and climbed in beside him. She sat, with her back against the pillows, watching the flames with her head turned slightly.

"I was having trouble sleeping too," he offered, looking down at her. She turned her eyes up towards him, tilting her head back a little.

"At least we can keep each other company if we're awake."

"Would you like to try and lay down?"

Dagna nodded and climbed beneath the top blanket, snuggling in with her head on the pillow. "These beds are so comfortable."

"One of the perks of having more money than I know what to do with," he shrugged a little as he followed suit. "Would you like to lie like last night?"

Again, she nodded and found his side, Cedric's arm beneath her head as she rested her cheek against his bare chest. It was a little odd at first, feeling his skin against hers. She longed for Fenris, but she did not feel the same way about Cedric. Certainly he was kind and overwhelmingly generous – he was handsome, too, of course. But it wasn't the same. As they lay together in his bed, he made no show of any type of affection other than brotherly. She imagined that he didn't lie like this with Hawke or Beatrice, but there was just something about how he held her that was more protective than enticing.

Cedric believed, too, that their cuddling was innocent. Dagna was beautiful, any man could see that. That wasn't what drew him to her, though. It was the kindness in her eyes and the need for companionship that radiated off of her. She didn't know it, but she was lonely. And that was something Cedric could most certainly identify with. Neither of them entertained any thoughts of a romantic nature towards the other, but that did not mean that they could not lie together beneath Cedric's blanket.

It was easier for them both to sleep that night, covered in each other's arms. It was not an altogether different feeling from the night before, but it was certainly clearer. They would not kiss and, in fact, they would not hold each other on their sides. There was something that felt as though it would cross a line like that. He would hold her if she curled toward him, facing her chest. It was more like a hug, then, than if she faced away from him. They were intimate, but not sexually so. They shared with each other their fear, even if only silently.

The following morning, Cedric awoke first. Bodahn called from behind the closed door, "The Captain is here to see you, ser."

Cedric did his best to extricate himself from the sleeping form of Dagna, grabbing his discarded robe from the night before and draping it over his shoulders. He didn't close it, didn't bother, as he left his room and descended the stairs. It was not only Aveline, but Isabela too. They were arguing – of course they were.

"Ladies, calm down," Cedric offered his most charming grin, his robe billowing behind him as he descended the stairs with his hand on the railing. "There's time enough for the both of you."

Isabela's eyes trailed across his bare chest, "Quite a happy trail you've got there, Cedric."

"The happiness lies at the end," he responded with a wink, in only the way that he could. Isabela laughed lightly, stopping when she saw the look on Aveline's face.

Aveline, who had seen his naked chest more than once on a drop-in visit, tried to hold on to her anger so that she might be able to avoid distraction. Even if she was happily involved with Donnic, Cedric was still a sight to behold. How he was single, she would never understand.

The Guard Captain and the pirate queen bantered back and forth about a relic and the Qunari.

Finally, he said, "We can, I imagine, help the both of you. The auction is early, is it not?"

Isabela nodded, "In about an hour."

"The Qunari can wait until lunch time, don't you think?"

Aveline frowned deeply, "I am unsure about this, Cedric."

"Then it's a good thing you asked my opinion," he smiled at her before he waved them off. "Get Fenris. Even if the Arishok just wants you and I, I'd rather have him at the ready. I'll meet you at the courtyard when I'm dressed."

Cedric hurried back up the stairs and moved around to find his clothing. There was a dressing screen in the far corner of the room; he had never used it, but he wasn't about to wake Dagna up to kick her out of his room. He changed into the light clothes he wore beneath his armor before stepping out, grabbing each piece separately as he covered himself for the fights that would inevitable ensue.

"Is something wrong?" Dagna asked with a slight sigh, sitting up in his bed. Cedric was caught off guard by the sight of her there, even if he had known full well to expect it. Waking up with someone in your bed was a pleasant thing, he decided. He thought, suddenly, of kissing her. After finishing putting his sword where it belonged, he moved over to the side of the bed and leaned to press his lips to the top of her head.

"Not yet," he smiled at her, lifting his helmet from the table on that side. He tucked it beneath his arm, moving towards the door. "Just in case, stay in until I get back. Then you'll know it's safe."

"Very well," she nodded a little, pulling the blankets back to climb out of bed. "I can take today to teach Orana some things."

And so, as Cedric left the front of the mansion to join his companions in their quest that day, Dagna made her way back to her room and changed for the day. She found Orana after breakfast was all taken care of and brought her to the library for her very first lesson in how to read.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Dagna spent the afternoon with Orana, trying to help her with the first three letters of the alphabet. She was a little slower taking to the process than Fenris had been but she was still catching on. The elf had other things to attend to, so Dagna began her first round of note-gathering and hypothesis-forming so that she would be prepared to go to the Circle's library the following day. She thought about going then but decided she would listen to Cedric just that once.

Well after lunch, Dagna was settled in the library when a loud banging on the door rang out. She heard Orana answer the door, then a scream. She scrabbled to the door, trying to peak out without being seen.

The large men, Qunari as best she knew, threw Orana into the corner with Bodahn and Sandal.

"Where is the master of the house?"

Dagna took in big, gulping breaths before she stepped out from her hiding spot. "This is the home of Cedric Hawke. I am his personal guest. You will not harm-"

A large, dark hand reached into her hair and jerked her along. With a scream, Dagna tried to keep on her feet. She struggled as he pulled her through the doorway and into the street. She was glad that none of the servants made a noise in protest; it would only make it worse.

Dagna was growing rather tired of being the punching bag in recent situations and so, putting her hands around the wrist of her assailant, she caused enough fuss for him to stop long enough to look at her.

"I will walk, if you let me."

The two other Qunari that had entered with him had gone to search out other nobles, it seemed. Dagna was alone with her guard, who released her. He let her walk in front of him with a firm hold on the back of her neck. Dagna felt quite like a dog, but she had no desire to lose hair over such a thing.

As they made their way to the Viscount's Keep, Dagna noticed that nothing was as it should have been. Carts were overturned, houses were on fire, people hiding or simply gone. Once they reached the front steps, her captor took a hold of her by the hair again and jerked her through the doorway, down the hall, and into the main room. There were so many people in the room, it was hard for Dagna to find a spot. She didn't recognize anyone, but she did recognize expensive clothing. She believed that the whole of Kirkwall nobility, shaking in their boots.

The Arishok, when everyone was pushed cowering to the side of the room, began a speech that ended with the removal of the Viscount's head.

Dagna looked on, her eyes wide at the spectacle. It wasn't until they had almost reached the Arishok that Dagan even recognized the group that had entered as the Viscount's head rolled.

With Cedric in the lead all of them bloodied, the entire mass of friends (which notably lacked Isabela) pushed forward to stand before the Arishok. Cedric spoke to him about the situation, but Dagna wasn't paying attention to the words coming out of their mouths. Fenris had turned, surveying the crowd for one reason or another. She froze, not that she was moving much anyway, when his eyes found hers. He watched her for a long time before a noise at the door distracted everyone, followed by the appearance of the pirate queen. She walked daintily atop the dead Qunari that she had let lead her to the hall, a book tucked firmly between her arm and her side.

Not that Dagna knew, but Fenris' eyes kept on returning to her. He wanted to go to her, to protect her. He knew, though, that any movement towards such would look aggressive. Cedric didn't need any help pissing off the Arishok; Isabela was doing a fine job of it.

Dagna heard a little of the conversation, enough to realize that the Arishok wanted to take Isabela with him.

"There is another way," Cedric responded, making it a statement and not a question.

"A duel," the Arishok responded, nodding a little. "You and I shall fight to the death."

"If anyone is going to fight for me, it's me!" Isabela took a step forward but the Arishok barely acknowledged her.

"You are unworthy, thief," the Arishok spoke, waving her off dismissively. "Cedric Hawke, we shall fight for the thief's life. If you die, we will take her with us and burn Kirkwall to the ground."

Cedric raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. "Hardly seems fair, but it is no matter. When you die, your men will leave. Immediately."

"If," the Arishok corrected, but Cedric shook his head.

"I had it right the first time. Now, let's get to it. I would like to make it home for dinner."

Dagna couldn't help but smile. She believed him - not because he was arrogant, but because she wanted to. She prayed to the Stone to save her friend, although she wasn't entirely convinced that he needed her help.

Everyone was pushed more against the side of the room and, to Fenris' relief, they were led over also. Fenris broke away and moved to Dagna, leaning a little towards her.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, rubbing the back of her head. "I think I might be missing more than a few hairs on my head, but that is the worst of it."

A dark look passed over his face and Dagna noticed a faint blue glow around his hand. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't want the Qunari to hurt Orana, Bodahn, or Sandal so I let them take me instead."

Fenris shook his head, muttering something in Tevene, before he took up a spot beside her and stood, watching the miracle of Cedric singe-handedly decimating the Arishok in so little time, one might have missed it. Dagna had never been able to watch Cedric in battle before; it was beautiful, if bloody. He used a sword and shield, but he had the grace of people like Isabela. Much like Fenris, she imagined. She had seen him the once, her first night in Kirkwall, although she had not been able to watch too closely.

It was a huge relief when Cedric, bloodied and bleeding, stood heaving great gulps of breath over the dead body of the Arishok.

True to their word, the Qunari (although unhappy about it) left without too much fuss, dragging their fallen leader along with them.

As the crowd moved towards their savior, Fenris put a light hand on Dagna's shoulder so that he would not lose sight of her.

Meredith, the Knight-Captain, entered with a small contingent of templars behind her. Things were said, taken care of, the Viscount's body removed for burial. Cedric was lead to the Chantry for healing, even if Anders or his sister would inevitably look him over to make sure that there was nothing wrong with him.

On his way out, he stopped near Dagna. "I'm sorry," he spoke quietly, glancing at Fenris before settling his eyes on her. "You being here is my fault."

"Hardly," she responded dismissively, shaking her head, "You saved us all, Cedric."

He reached out his gauntlet-covered hand, blood spattered there, and smoothed her hair a little. "You are far too kind for this world."

"Someone must be," she responded, grinning at him. The blood that was now invariably in her hair was the least of her worries.

Cedric let out a chuckle as he straightened, facing forward but glancing back to Dagna. "We must be a terrible influence on you; all these jokes, we'll hardly be able to recognize you before too long."

"Get better quickly,"

"I imagine I will be home in time for dinner."

"A late one, certainly. I will wait for you," she smiled at him and at his back as he finally turned to leave the Keep.

Fenris' hand had long-since fallen away from Dagna's shoulder and he stood to her side, having watched the exchange, and felt anger – more jealousy – coursing through him.

"If you had not moved in with, you would have been taken here."

"While that is likely, if I had not moved in with him I would not be speaking with you."

Fenris' eyes narrowed as he looked at her, trying to gauge her meaning. "Because you would not be here."

"No, likely because you would not care to seek me out," she frowned, being thrust forward by the moving mass of people. Fenris stuck close to her side, not willing to break their tenuous connection despite his previous statement of the whole thing being a bad idea.

"Do you still intend to continue your research?"

"Of course. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Just because you have no desire to be in my presence does not mean that I will go back on my word."

"It is not-" Fenris stopped, huffing a little in frustration. If he said what he wished to say, there would be no going back. He couldn't though. He could not give her such a hope, only to be unable to fulfill his promises. Again. "Very well." was all he said before he ducked his head, turning away from her and disappearing into the sea of people.

Dagna shook her head as she watched him weave around the people until he was out of sight again and began the short trek back to the Hawke estate. She thought that would not be the best time to go to the Gallows' library so she decided to write some letters instead. There was a book that she desperately needed to continue on the trail of her hypothesis.

She walked slowly to the estate, in no hurry to throw herself into her work after the shock of the afternoon. She hadn't really feared for her life, mostly because she hadn't had the time to truly process what had been going on. When she finally made it back, Orana threw her arms around the shorter girl very briefly.

Dagna smiled at her as she moved back, "Are you three all right?"

Bodahn nodded, "Thank you for your help, messere. I don't know what we would have done without you here."

"It is no matter, Bodahn," she continued to smile, moving into the main room to settle herself at a chair beside the fire. "What is done is done and you three are safe. That's what matters."

"Is everyone else okay? What happened?"

"The Qunari, as you could probably guess, were rounding all the nobility up in the Keep. The Arishok, the leader of the Qunari, killed the Viscount. Cedric and everyone else arrived, and then Isabela came in. I don't know what happened exactly, but I'm sure Cedric will tell you when he gets back from the Chantry. He killed the Arishok in single combat. And now he's with the healers. I imagine Hawke and Anders will show up eventually."

Bodahn and Orana looked suitably terrified and then relieved, while Sandal was busy taking something from his large wooden box. He held it out for Dagna to look at.

It was a small, glowing piece of blue rock. Sandal moved back over and offered it out to her, saying, "Enchantment?" as he held his hand out.

"Thank you?" Dagna said as she reached out tentatively to take the stone. Sandal nodded to her which left her to assume that he did, in fact, mean for her to take it. It felt cool to the touch, smooth and glassy even with what looked like sharp edges. "Thank you," Dagna repeated, not a question this time as she brought it closer to her. It was lyrium, without a doubt. Not the sort that drove Bartrand crazy, but the sort that lined Fenris' body. Sandal had to know, then. He had to know what Dagna studied, had to know about what had passed between them. How, she didn't know. He seemed dull – but many people had thought that about Dagna, simply because she wasn't like everyone else. She reached forward and set her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Thank you." Her eyes were level with his and a smile spread across her face, mirrored in his.

"Enchantment," he responded, a statement and not a question. Dagna squeezed his shoulder a little before letting go.

"Enchantment indeed," she smiled, lifting the lyrium to look more closely at it. Upon closer inspection, Dagna could see the tiniest of movements, flowing within the rock. That was curious. After a moment, Dagna broke herself away from the rock and slid it into her pocket, smiling at those in the room. "I am so glad you are all okay. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Cedric did mention that he would like dinner."

"Of couse not! There should be a feast for him. He must be the Champion of Kirkwall."

Dagna, remembering a brief mention by the Knight-Captain of something very similar, nodded. "I agree. Should I gather his friends and invite them over?"

"Yes, I think you should," Bodahn responded, seemingly excited about the prospect.

Orana, too, seemed pleased. "I will start immediately preparing."

"I'll be back shortly, then. Hopefully they are easy to find in the chaos."

"Should you go out by yourself?"

"What's the worst that can happen?"

Dagna was rather convinced that she would be totally all right and, despite the universe's best attempts to maim or otherwise injure, she was. She made it safely to the Hanged Man where three of the companions were. Hawke, according to Varric, was already on her way to the estate after having stopped by the Chantry to gather her twin. Isabela had gone to find Carver, as Beatrice couldn't very well waltz into the Gallows for a templar. The Hawke cousin had gone with Anders to retrieve some things from his clinic and they would certainly come soon.

So Fenris was the only one that needed to be contacted. Dagna half wanted to ask Varric to do it – they were all going that direction, weren't they? – but instead, she bid them goodbye for a moment as they reached the courtyard that separated the elf's stolen mansion from the Hawke's recovered one. She wandered to Fenris' front door and, for the first time in something like a year, Dagna knocked on his front door.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Fenris didn't respond to the door, not even to another round of knocking. With a huff, she opened the door – not locked – and pushed her way in. There were more bottles of Aggregio than she had ever seen; some of them broke on the stairs while the majority of them were in palettes on the main floor, waiting to be ingested.

"Ancestors," Dagna breathed, shaking her head. Clearing her throat, she called up the stairs from the bottom step. "Fenris?"

The door opened a little wider and the dwarf took it as an invitation. She climbed the stairs slowly, finally reaching his room. She pushed the door open wider and the amount of bottles was shocking. How had he even drunk that much since the last time she was there? He would have to be fall-down drunk all of the time, or at least she thought as much.

"Fenris, are you all right?" Dagna asked, frowning as she approached him. He sat in the chair she once had, a bottle dangling from his fingers and his shoulders slumped low.

He didn't respond and she moved closer, leaning just a little to bring herself face-to-face with him. "Fenris?"

He was breathing – she could see his neck muscles move as he swallowed and his chest rise and fall with breath.

So he was ignoring her. Why would he let her in just to ignore her?

"We are having a dinner for Cedric," she spoke, moving back a little. "I came to invite you."

"I will not dine with you and your lover."

The word sounded like a curse on his lips and Dagna was half infuriated and half hurt by what he said. So much so that she did not bother to deny it. "Even if you have decided to loathe me with everything you are, Cedric is still your friend. He deserves your support."

"He does not need it, as he has yours."

"You are completely insufferable," Dagna responded, throwing her hands in the air. "Stay here and drink, then. Maybe you won't remember  _anything_  by the time you are done." She turned then and walked away from him, so frustrated that she nearly toppled down the stairs. Her shaking hand pulled back on the front door, slamming it behind her as best she could to punctuate her point.

Fenris remained seated where he was through the rest of his bottle. On his way out the door almost an hour later, he lifted two bottles from his stash and headed for the Hawke estate.

When Dagna arrived back at Cedric's home, she was pleasantly surprised by the sight. Cedric was dressed in his plush robe and fine breeches, looking every bit as handsome as he ever had. He had washed at least his hair and the blood from the rest of him; the room smelled of fire and roses, the faint scent of dinner drifting in front the kitchen only enhancing the feel of it all.

Hawke stood with her brother, Anders busy with Beatrice. Carver stood rather sullenly in the corner, Aveline trying to make polite conversation. Donnic was on duty and they would not likely be seeing him that night. Merrill and Isabela were by the fireplace, Isabela explaining some escapade involving a flame-eater in Orlais.

Cedric's grin spread wider as he saw Dagna enter and he gestured her over. Varric then appeared, walking over from the templar and the Guard Captain, grinning too.

"Looks like you are settling in well, little one," the other dwarf spoke, lifting a mug of ale to his lips. Apparently, he had brought a cask of some from the Hanged Man and Bodahn had procured several bottles of wine for the occasion. Hawke begged off for a moment to retrieve a mug for her brother and wine for Dagna.

"I am so sorry about earlier, Dagna," Cedric frowned, shaking his head. "It shouldn't have happened."

"You couldn't have prevented it," she responded, smiling at Hawke as she offered her the glass she carried precariously between two fingers.

"I am glad you were here," Hawke offered, taking a drink of her wine as she settled in beside her brother. She seemed much like she had when Dagna had first met her; she was close to her brother, almost keeping an eye on him as if he was bound to disappear any moment.

"So am I. I have no idea what would have happened to them," she gestured towards the kitchen as she assumed that was where the servants were (such an odd word for Dagna to use, it still sounded clunky even in her head). "Much better that I lose some hair than we lose them."

"Something's wrong with your hair?" Hawke asked, frowning.

"The man that took me, he tore some hair when he grabbed me."

"I'd kill him if I knew who he was," Cedric offered, his tone serious but his face smiling.

"I know you would, Cedric. Are you all right, though?"

He nodded, taking a long swig of his ale. "The healers didn't do much other than bandage me up, but Bea was able to patch up the rest of it. I will say one thing for Anders, he has certainly taught her a lot about healing."

"And if that is the only thing you say about him tonight, I will be quite pleased," Hawke gave her brother a wan smile and the silence that followed their exchange spoke volumes.

"Have you seen Fenris?" Varric asked, finally tired of the tense air about them.

Dagna nodded, "Yes, I stopped by his house. He was…indisposed."

Cedric and Varric shared a look but could not comment on anything as Bodahn came out to let them know that dinner was ready for all.

Sometime after they had sat down at the table and Cedric had told Orana and Bodahn that they had certainly outdone themselves and, moreover, that they should join everyone. With a lot of coaxing, they finally did.

It was during a particularly entertaining story from Varric, with some interesting interjections from Cedric, that a loud thud sounded from the door. It repeated twice, denoting as a knock.

"I'll get it," Dagna offered, despite the protests of Cedric as she stood. "I will be fine. I still know how to scream."

"Another joke!" Cedric grinned, hand slapping the table in amusement. "Well, then, by all means answer the door."

Shaking her head a little, a smile on her lips, Dagna moved through the house to greet whomever was crashing their party.

She was quite surprised when, upon opening the door, Fenris stumbled in without the door to hold him up. He carried two bottles of wine in his hand and probably three more in his body.

"Fenris, what-"

"You told me to come," he interrupted her, stepping into the house. He appeared a little less drunk than Dagna had originally thought, though it was still obvious that he had been drinking since they had left the Keep.

"And you said you wouldn't," Dagna responded, closing the door behind him.

"I rather often say things I do not mean," he looked at her then, eyes locked with hers for a fleeting moment. Dagna turned away from him, though, and began to move back towards the dining hall.

"Cedric will be glad to-" Fenris cut her off again, though this time it was by pulling her back towards him. He had gently grabbed her wrist, spinning her about and bringing her body close to his.

The hand that had taken hold of her wrist moved to her cheek then curved around her neck, gently tilting her head as he lowered his. The kiss he gave her left her head spinning, matching the intensity of their first actual kiss from only a few days before. It had only been two full days since he had left her, she realized.

Dagna lifted her hands and put them lightly on his chest. She pushed back, not roughly, but enough to let him know she meant for him to stop. He seemed, mostly, to ignore her. She lost herself against him, conflicted to the core. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she felt his arm go behind her, the one holding the wine bottles.

Finally she remembered herself and moved her hands down to push him away again, this time not giving in. "You can't just  _do that_ ," she huffed, straightening her shirt and fussing with her hair. Her cheeks felt hot and it had nothing to do with the wine she had been drinking with dinner.

"Oh, that is right, I had nearly forgotten. Cedric would certainly not approve."

Dagna didn't respond to him even a little, instead she turned away from him and stalked back to the dining room.

"Fenris is here," she spoke nonchalantly as she found her seat beside Cedric again. Fenris set one of the bottles of wine he brought with a heavy thud in front of Cedric, eyes focused on him in a much different way than he had been looking at Dagna, before he finally took up the only vacant seat – the foot of the table, with Varric on one side and Isabela on the other.

His chair left him staring down the table directly at Cedric and, with little effort, Dagna. He somehow managed to open his bottle of wine without her assistance and wasted no time in taking a long drink.

He watched them talk, watched her laugh, watched his infuriatingly charming grin. He watched them as he finished his bottle and began a mug, even as Varric and Isabela tried to start up conversation. He was barely responsive, although not entirely useless.

"Bartrand is enjoying the sanitarium," Varric offered, trying to get Fenris' attention.

"Would you like to relieve some tension?" Isabela asked in a purr. Fenris' eyes snapped to her and he nearly said yes.

However, he said nothing. Isabela made some half-hearted comment about seeing what Cedric was up to later if Fenris wasn't interested.

Dagna, for her part, seemed totally caught up in conversation with Cedric. He knew, though, that her eyes kept on drifting to the far end of the table. He was a little concerned for Fenris – he hadn't seen him this drunk in a long time, and certainly not in public.

Cedric, although trying not to push it too far, pulled Dagna's chair closer to his. They leaned close, occasionally turning to speak to someone else. Once and a while, Varric would call down the table and steal Cedric's attention.

When his arm draped across the back of Dagna's chair, Fenris stood abruptly, grunting a "good night" before he shoved himself away from the table and moved towards the front of the house to make his escape.

Dagna looked to Cedric, then Varric, and finally at Fenris' retreating back.

She did not stand, she did not follow. She let him go, despite the protest her heart was giving her. She let him go into the night, back into his stolen estate, and drink himself to sleep.

It hurt, not following him; watching him leave in anger and pain for no real reason. She wanted to follow him and explain it all. She wanted him to wait for her, to call her name, to ask for her forgiveness. She wanted him to kiss her again and not feel the need to push away.

She wanted him back, but she hated that she felt like she needed him. She would do what she promised; she would find his solution. She would wait for his apology.

For that night, though, she would enjoy her friends and ignore her frustrations. Cedric never touched her more than anyone else would dare to, no one commented on Fenris' drunkenness, and Dagna fell asleep in her own bed.

Fenris passed out in the chair that Dagna used to frequent, his fire dying slowly as he drifted into the Fade for the night. He would not remember his dreams and he would be lucky if he remembered he evening when he awoke the next morning.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Cedric did not contact Fenris for quite some time after the Qunari invasion. Varric, however, made frequent visits to his mansion mostly to confirm that the elf was still alive. While he was drinking heavily, he was still able to function somewhat. He was using Varric's contacts to find out more about his sister.

A few weeks after the death of the Arishok, Dagna and Cedric were walking through the streets of Hightown, heading towards the Gallows. Dagna needed a book and Cedric had received a letter from Carver.

They came upon a crowd, the First Enchanter from the Gallows standing before them speaking in harsh tones about the templars. Dagna and Cedric stopped, the latter's hand on the former's shoulder. The Knight-Captain came shortly thereafter and interrupted Orsino's angry words. Finally, Cedric could not stand by and watch them any longer – mostly because Orsino called upon him to stand up for mages, considering Cedric's sister.

Everyone knew she was a mage, although no one would dare touch her. Not only was she the sister of the Champion, she was also a force to be reckoned with all on her own. Orsino asked Cedric who he believed was in the right and Meredith called for an answer, too.

"I am over the lot of you," Cedric responded, not caring that they both looked aghast and then quite upset. "Perhaps if you spent more time worry about the city and less time worrying about how much you hate each other, we wouldn't still need to be rebuilding." He paused before he shrugged a little, "Everyone is wrong and everyone is right. Who am I to say who is more one than the other?"

"You are the Champion," Meredith frowned, apparently wanting him to agree with her.

"I just clean up messes, I don't solve problems. Either you all will figure out how to live with each other or you won't. " Cedric offered his arm to Dagna, who slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. "I hope it's the first one."

Without another word, Cedric steered his dwarven companion through the crowd and towards the Gallows. Behind them, Meredith crowed at the people to dispurse.

"Do you really have no opinion on the matter?" Dagna asked quietly as they left the group far behind.

"Of course I do. But it's a complicated one. I love my sister and I love, in my own way, my brother. I could not choose one's life over the other, which is exactly what Meredith and Orsino want me to do. It isn't so simple as saying mages are evil. There is a lot of evil in this world, and most of it has nothing to do with magic."

Dagna's opinion was a different one, though not entirely opposite. She believed that everyone was wrong and everyone was right, much like what Cedric had said, but she also believed that the templars were more wrong. But she wouldn't ever ask Cedric to pick between his siblings (even if Carver still gave her the wilies).

They separated for a time when they reached the Gallows, Cedric leaving Dagna to find his brother.

They left the Gallows within an hour, Dagna having discovered the book that she needed. Cedric had offered to procure her a copy – it wasn't a difficult book to find but she couldn't take it out of the library. He looked a little odd when he returned from speaking to his brother but brushed it off with Dagna with a grin and questions about her research.

She had long-since been given an entire wardrobe full of new clothes, everything fitting perfectly. She felt like a lady, almost, though she knew that she was nothing more than Cedric's friend. Still, there was nothing more intense about their relationship. On occasion, one would find his or herself in the other's bed because sleeping alone was just too difficult. They never kissed, never touched other than in ways they already had. Occasionally he would kiss her forehead, or the top of her head – but it was brotherly affectionate, not anything like the way Fenris had kissed her.

She looked as though she belonged in Hightown and, aside from a minor incident in which someone questioned whether she was Aveline and Cedric's lovechild, most people didn't seem to mind that she was around. She would go to dinners with Cedric, mostly to keep him company. He had little to no interest in finding a companion among the nobles and so they acted the part.

When they were alone, though, they spoke of many things. They spoke about Anders and Hawke, Isabela, Merrill, Carver. They guessed at Varric's past, each story even more outlandish than the last. They spoke a little about Fenris, but less as time went on. Occasionally Cedric would find Dagna working hard at her research, the little blue stone that Sandal had given her glowing atop this or that piece of paper. He would ask her how her research was going, if she had heard back from people, what she had discovered – these questions would always lead to a conversation about Fenris. Varric often reported the goings-on to Cedric so that he could tell Dagna. She never asked after him but was always eager to hear what either of her friends had to say.

It was nearly two months after their last interaction that Dagna finally had a breakthrough in her research. She was so excited that she completely forgot herself and went to Fenris' house straightaway, only to find it empty.

Dagna knew what it was. And she had to tell him.

As the months had gone on, she grew completely obsessed with the mission. She had been pouring over books, notes, and hounding every dwarf, mage, and lyrium crafter she could find. She had written letter after letter to the Shaperate, which were not easy to deliver, but finally, miraculously, she  _knew_.

She was certain that she had discovered  _why_  Fenris had no memories and, indeed, why being with her had let him reach them if only briefly. She thought, too, she had figured out just  _what_  had been done to him.

With papers in hand, Dagna cross through Kirkwall to the Hanged Man. Even if he wasn't there – which he wasn't – she could find Varric. As she searched the main floor for any signs of her friends, she noticed a red-headed elf – someone she had never seen before. As this elf could not help her find those she sought, she moved away and resumed her search. She climbed the stairs, heading towards Varric's room when she stopped. There were voices downstairs, voices she recognized. But before she could make it back downstairs, she stopped in the hallway to breathe a moment. He would know. They could, hopefully, be together again.

She had to jump back, though, almost immediately, being nearly run-down by a rather large group of even larger men. Four of them were armed and armored; one of them was a mage by the look of him. Dagna had, after living at the Circle and spending enough time with apostates in Kirkwall, come to be able to tell mostly by appearance. Or at least assume. Most men, especially those with an armored guard, did not carry a staff and walk around in dress robes. He was obviously wealthy, much wealthier than anyone in the Hanged Man save for the Hawkes.

His face, although attractive in angles, reminded Dagna of a dragon. She wasn't sure why; perhaps it was the reptilian look in his eyes. He moved to push her out of the way but his hand stopped, hovering briefly by her.

"Oh, aren't you a precious little thing," he laughed, the sound hollow and frightening. "If I was not here for another, I might claim you as my pet."

Dagna watched him, wide-eyed as she held her breath and pressed herself as far back against the wall as she could. He seemed even more amused by her fear and made a 'tsk'ing sound before he shook his head and led his men away. Dagna crept behind them, watching as the last man disappeared down the stairs.

She heard the same voice, saying, "…my little Fenris, predictable as always." and she scrambled to the edge of the stairs, trying to peer over without being seen. She was useless in a fight, as had been proven over and over. She could hold a dagger but seemed to entirely forget how to use it. Besides, the men in the armor would be able to break her neck with a twist of their wrists.

She was relieved to see a large group of friendly faces at the base of the stairs, even if she was almost positive the man that was approaching Fenris was Danarius. She knew that the twins would rather die than let the magister take him back. Even if Fenris hated what Hawke was, the young woman would still fight tooth and nail for her friend.

Dagna saw red hair, backing away from the group after they bantered briefly. The way that Danarius spoke left her skin crawling and she tried her best to keep herself silent, even as a slaver hit Fenris.

The fight had started when Hawke, petite as she was for a human, stepped out in front of Fenris. She was shorter than the elf, but imposing enough with the look in her eyes, and set her staff hard on the floor.

"Fenris belongs to no one, Danarius."

Cedric stood beside her, shield in front of his chest and sword at the ready. "And if we must kill you to prove that, we will.  _With pleasure_."

Dagna stood, frozen for a long moment before a thought struck her. Varric had potions, poisons and things, stored in a chest in his room. He had shown her once, and she remembered mostly what each one did. Trying desperately not to make a solitary noise, Dagna retreated from her position and bolted to the chest. She found the potions and left her notes aside, gathering different jars in her arms and moving back to her position. In her absence, three more armored men had joined the fight. Varric was standing as far back as he could, trying to pick off the men individually. Isabela was arching off of a table, trying to land a dagger between a man's helmet and his breast plate. Beatrice was in a far corner, laying glyphs and healing as well as she could. She knocked a man on the head with her staff, Cedric grabbing him to throw him away from his sister.

Fenris was amongst a group in the middle of the room, bogged by four men as they tried to best him. Dagna couldn't see Danarius, but it didn't matter. She threw, with all her might, a swirling black encased in glass. Miraculously, it hit the back of the nearest slaver's head.

Aside from the man that was dazed and now coughing fiercely, no one much seemed to notice. Dagna hurried to the other side of the stairs, tossing another bottle at the closest soldier from that side. This time, he looked as though he was turning green.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

And then Danarius was coming up the stairs, towards her. Dagna did the only thing that Fenris would have let her; she hid. The wall that lined the staircase left a small space for her to wedge herself in, just out of sight.

Dagna turned her head, trying to look from the corner of her eye to see what had been causing the faint purple glow at her feet.

Danarius had cast a protection spell, standing inside a large bubble of light. Fenris and Cedric were besting the men in the middle of the room now, and Danarius' light was fading.

It was quick, the light fading and the hand on her neck. She thought, very briefly, on how people quite liked to grab her by the neck. Perhaps there would be a new hypothesis – in that moment, though, all she had time to think about was how not to fall down the stairs and break anything.

"What are you doing up here, pet?" He asked her, steely eyes narrowed at her as he pulled her closer.

"Watching," she responded, one hand around his wrist and the other concealing the bottle it still held.

"And why is that?"

"Because I-"

"Dagna?" Fenris' voice, heavy with effort and concern, called from the base of the stairs.

"Oh – does my little wolf have a plaything? I would think your warrior friend a better fit," Danarius shrugged a little, grasp tightening around her neck. "It is no matter. Come with me, and she lives."

"Put her down, Danarius!"

"You know," Dagna hissed from the mage's grip, "you really ought to pay closer attention to your surroundings."

Danarius' face contorted a little as he looked at the dwarf, who promptly tossed the final bottle she held to his feet. In an attempt to retaliate, Danarius lifted his hands – one of which had to drop Dagna. She curled herself into a ball for the fall down the stairs, guessing it was safer than trying to stop her fall. She thudded to the main floor and scrambled, despite the immense pain coursing from head to toe, with the help of the red headed elf she had seen earlier, to get out of the way.

She had inhaled a little of the cloud that the bottle had created, but not much. She was coughing fitfully, while Danarius had almost toppled from his precarious position at the top of the stairs. In fact, he did. He collapsed forward with the rogue's smoke in his lungs, falling without grace to the main floor. He landed with a thud, practically at Fenris' feet.

"So you have left me for a  _dwarf_?" Danarius scoffed, gathering himself weakly to his knees. Fenris helped him, his right arm glowing, by thrusting his fist into Danarius' chest.

"You are nothing to me," Fenris responded, his voice cold, angry, and low. His muscles flexed and he pulled Danarius closer, his hand clenching around the mage's spine through his intestines.

"F-f-"

"You are no longer my master," the once-slave spoke with finality, snapping the mage's neck with a clenching of his fist before he tossed the man to the ground. The dead mage landed in front of the red heads, one elf and one dwarf, who were trying to remain unnoticed in the corner.

When Fenris' eyes turned on them, it was perhaps the first time Dagna was ever afraid of him. And the look, she thought, was not for her. He did look to her briefly, sending a chill down her spine, before his focus found the elf. Dagna looked at her, realizing too late that she was familiar in face. Her hair was red, but a different sort than Dagna's. This elf's hair was more blood, less fire. Her eyes, though – they were the eyes of Fenris, unmistakably the same – like the way the twins shared theirs.

The elf straightened her back meekly, putting her hands up as if to shield herself, "I..I had no choice, Leto-"

"Stop calling me that," Fenris growled as he stepped over the dead body of his old master. Dagna realized that he was mostly covered in blood, splatters across his face and his chest the most prominent. There was some drying in his white hair, turning it slightly reddish brown.

"He was going to make me his apprentice – I…would have been a magister!"

"You sold out your  _own brother_  to become a magister?"

"If he had taken you back, I could have bought you – and freed you, when I-"

"If he did not kill you after he had me! Do you honestly believe he would have made good on his promise, Varania?"

The redhead's face grew dark and then blank, her hands falling to her sides as if in defeat. "You mean…Oh, Leto, I did not – I didn't…You have no idea what I've gone through, what has happened since Mother died-"

"And  _you_  have no idea what happened to me while under Danarius' thumb! You would send me back to that life on the promise of a slaver?"

"I had no other choice, Leto."

" _And now you have none at all_ ," Fenris hand began to glow and he lifted it towards Varania's chest.

Dagna moved from Varania's side, lifting her hand towards Fenris'. He jerked back, eyes casting down to the dwarf.

"What are you  _doing_?"

"I can't just watch you kill her, Fenris. She's your  _sister_."

"Why not? The fact that I am her brother was not going to save me."

"Didn't you listen to her? She was  _trying_  to save you!"

"But I don't need her now," Fenris' eyes shifted to Varania, hand raised again.

"Fenris,  _please_  don't do this."

"Do you want her to support your insipid theories? Is that why you are trying so hard to save her?" Fenris' narrowed eyes turned on Dagna and, though the insult stung a little, she didn't back down.

"No, Fenris. It has nothing to do with that. I think you'll regret killing her."

His pale green eyes remained on Dagna for a long moment before he turned back to Varania, hand lifted towards her chest as he leaned in. He watched her cowering beneath him, fear causing a sheen of sweat on her brow.

She could attack him. She could have cast a spell on him as they stood there, but he realized that she hadn't.

With a grunt, Fenris moved back a little and let the lyrium glow fade. "You did not try to harm me. Or my companions."

"She helped me, Fenris. When I fell down the stairs," Dagna offered, holding a bleeding elbow.

"Why?" he asked his sister, moving back a little more. He kicked the body of Danarius, moving a limp arm out of his way. "Why have you not run?"

"I truly did want to see you again, Leto."

"Fenris," he responded, jaw tight. "I am Fenris now."

Varania nodded a little, still visibly terrified.

"I will not kill you, but I do not want you here." He turned his back on her then, moving over to his companions once more. Something was said by Cedric and Fenris moved passed all of them, heading for the door.

Varania and Dagna stood where they had been, the dwarf looking up at the elf. "You could stay. There are rooms here."

"To what end?" she asked, her eyes still trained on the door as he brother left.

"What other life have you got?"

"I could be a magister," she frowned as though the words sounded as hollow to her ears as they did to Dagna's.

"Or you could have a brother."

"How do you know he will come around?"

"I don't," she shrugged a little, looking down at her elbow before she raised her eyes to Varania again. "But I do know he won't if you leave."

With a slight huff, Varania made to move away from Dagna.

"I never said thank you," the dwarf finalized and, despite herself Varania smiled.

"You're welcome, of course."

And Dagna thought, as the elf went to the bartender to ask after a room, that there might be hope for the both of them. She couldn't know if Fenris would ever accept his sister, or if he would ever forgive Dagna for suggesting that she stay against his wishes. She did know, though, that it was important for Varania to stay and try.

Dagna limped a little as she moved to join her friends and Cedric, for his part, patted her on the back. "That was pretty impressive, that trick you pulled."

"I didn't know what else to do."

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to find Fenris," she frowned a little. "I think I've discovered what happened to him."

Varric's eyebrows lifted and he grinned at her. "Oh, I will have to hear this."

"Of course," Hawke began, moving a little closer, "But right now Dagna needs some healing."

"What do you mean? My elbow is just a scratch."

The group's eyes widened collectively as they looked at her. There was a large gash in her arm and it looked a little like the bone was out of place.

"You must be caught up in your research still. If you don't move, I can fix it here."

Dagna nodded a little and Hawke slid her hand down Dagna's blood-slicked arm, a light blue glow emanating from her hand as the bits of Dagna knitted themselves back together. The mage bent at the knees, reaching her hand down to wrap around the dwarf's ankle and she fixed the sprain too.

"All better," the mage smiled, patting Dagna on the shoulder before she looked over her other companions. "The rest of you will have to go see Anders, I don't know that I've got enough left in me to fix all this," she waved her hand over them, still smiling.

"You could come with us," Cedric offered, looking at Dagna.

"I need to find Fenris," she shook her head, moving back towards Varric's rooms. When she returned to the main floor, it almost looked like nothing had happened. One final slaver's body was being drug out of the place by two men – Cedric had paid them to do the work he had no desire to do and they had jumped at the chance.

Dagna left, then, winding her way back to Hightown. She didn't knock as she entered, calling out his name so that he knew she was there.

"What do you want?" he growled from his chair. There were still bottles everywhere, but most of them were empty. The pallets on the first floor were mostly empty by then, although he seemed like he had slowed down on his drinking.

"I came to tell you that I think I've discovered what happened to you."

Fenris sat up a little, eyes narrowed as he watched her take the seat she used to occupy. It was odd being back; she hadn't visited him in his home since she had come to invite him to dinner all those months ago.

"Why does it matter now?"

"It matters because you left," she frowned, holding her notes in her lap.

"You have Cedric, now. You do not need me." He seemed to hate the words he said almost as much as he hated the woman he spoke them to.

"You're a blighted fool," Dagna groaned, shaking her head. "Nothing has ever happened between us. He is my friend and I certainly needed one of those."

Fenris was watching her for signs of dishonesty. The words sounded too good to be true.

"You mean-"

"I  _mean_  that there is nothing going on between Cedric and I and there never was."

Fenris blinked at her, too much going on in his mind to fully accept what she was saying. "You have had no relations with Cedric?"

"I don't know how many ways I can tell you as much."

"What of the Hightown rumors?"

"It was all a playact. He wanted to pretend so that no one would throw themselves at him. He, it appears, is the most eligible bachelor in Kirkwall and he intends to stay that way."

Fenris leaned over the arms of his chair and hers, elbows on his as he leaned forward. "Do you mean to tell me-"

"-that you have been wallowing in hatred and jealousy for months for no reason?" Dagna raised an eyebrow, rather amused by the infuriated look on his face. "Yes, Fenris. You have imagined all of it. It is you I think of, you I still care about."

"But  _how_?"

"Well, I haven't had much choice in the matter."

"But I-" he stopped, shaking his head. He sat back a little and stared into the fire. They sat in silence, tense although deflating, until Fenris sat up again and looked at her, as if trying to read her eyes. "I am sorry."

Dagna, having expected anything but those words, turned to watch him. She had no words.

"I am sorry for leaving you," he repeated, his hand moving out to touch her arm. "I was a fool."

"I'm glad you finally admit it," she grinned at him, feeling tears well in her eyes in happiness. She had cried so much since arriving in Kirkwall, it was a wonder she was not a ball of hysteria all of the time.

"I thought it was better if you forgot me, or hated me."

"Well, it didn't work," Dagna responded, letting go of the notes with one hand so that she could take his.

"And I am glad for it. But can you forgive me?"

"I already have, Fenris."

And this time, Dagna leaned over. Fenris met her halfway and their lips met, Dagna feeling as though she could die happy in those moments. Not that she had any intention of doing so.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sassy!Dagna, Paragon of Patience.

Fenris spent the better part of the evening trying to make certain that Dagna had forgiven him. She thought it seemed a bit out of character, being so apologetic – but she could not deny that she appreciated it. After some time, Dagna stood and rooted about the room.

"What are you looking for?" Fenris asked as he watched her move. He had to admit that he liked the way her new clothes fit. They were hardly risqué but certainly better than the baggy, oversized clothing she had had months before. He had missed her, that much was obvious.

"A bottle that you haven't drank yet," she responded, turning to smile at him so that he knew it was meant as a light-hearted prod. "I thought it was appropriate."

"The last one," Fenris spoke as he lifted a bottle from beside his chair.

"The last, last one?" Dagna asked, quite curious as she moved back to her chair.

"The very last," he responded with a smile, an expression that Dagna had sorely missed.

"Well then, it's appropriate." She settled back in her chair, popping the cork like she had what seemed like forever ago with her little dagger. "Cheers," she lifted the bottle and tipped it back before she offered it to Fenris.

"Come here," he said, his hand finding hers and tugging her gently in his direction. Surprised by his suggestion at affection, Dagna almost literally jumped at the chance. She stood from her chair again and moved over, standing in front of him. He slid his arm behind her and pulled her slowly into his lap. Her heart began to beat quickly as she slid into his lap, resting against his shoulder and setting the bottle of wine in her lap. It felt surreal, almost, being so close to him again after so long.

He rested his forehead against her temple, closing his eyes as he curved around her.

"I missed you," she breathed, feeling all of her emotion well up inside of her. She moved her head, slipping it into the curve that married his neck with his shoulder.

Fenris' arms tightened around her for a moment and he let out a sigh, turning his head a little to press his lips to her forehead. "I am so sorry."

"You told me once never to apologize for something that isn't my fault," she spoke, her words brushing against his skin. "So stop apologizing. You did what you thought you needed to."

"I hated myself for it," he offered, one of his sliding from her side to her leg, settling just above her knee. "I wanted to tell you every day that I did not mean what I had said, that you make me the happiest I have ever been. I remember every moment we spent together. I thought, if I could forget, it would no longer hurt."

"I am glad you didn't forget," she replied, tilting her head to kiss his jaw. "I haven't either. Not ever."

They sat for a long moment in the quiet, the fireplace empty and their hearts full. Eventually, Dagna disrupted their silence.

"I…I think I know what happened to you, Fenris." She sat up a little, lifting the bottle. "I do not know if there is a cure, but at least you can know."

He tensed a little, taking the bottle from her after she took her drink. He took a long one but gave the bottle back to her with little complaint.

"I have done a lot of research into what lyrium does to a person, and typically speaking long exposure to lyrium drives someone mad," she began, looking at her hands around the bottle in her lap. "However, as you have not had that unfortunate side effect, I believe that the lyrium is not  _actually_  just…attached to you. I believe it has become a  _part_ of you through an experiment to create a living golem."

"I am not made of stone."

"Your muscles are a different story," Dagna smiled at him, touching his chest lightly. He snorted in response but she continued. "That is why I said 'living'. I think the goal was to give you the strength of a golem, and perhaps the detachment. I imagine that Danarius tried to create a sort of control rod for you, as there are for golems. I think – though I have no way to know for certain – that was why you turned on the Fog Warriors in Seheron. In the fray, it was broken – allowing you to escape, as he could no longer control you." Although Fenris had not relaxed beneath her, he made no move to stop her speech. Dagna's hand lifted, trailing lightly over the lyrium brand in his arm without actually touching it. "The lyrium is attached to your mind, through avenues in the body. It touches your mind much as the way it does a mage, allowing you to access the Fade – this is how you can do what you do with your hand. If you harnessed your skill, I believe you could phase between this world and the Fade easily. Again, some of this is merely conjecture – without any way to prove any of this, everything I say is theoretical. Mages, when given access to pure lyrium, can travel to the Fade at will. It is an augmentation, much like crystals on golems. The Wardens in Ferelden traveled with a golem and she was quite forthcoming with information, although she had a propensity to address me as 'Squishy' in our letters."

Fenris smiled weakly at this, still trying to focus on the intent of her words. "I am a golem, then?"

"No, no – a golem retains little of their person after the transformation, at least from what I have gathered. Shale, the golem in Ferelden, had lost much of her memory also although it may have had something to do with her age. She was well over a thousand years old when the Wardens found her. Sometime after they left me at the Circle, they found what had once been her family home. Being there triggered her memory, allowing her to recall some of her life before electing to become a golem."

"She chose that life?"

"She was a warrior from an ancient dwarven house. We dwarves do odd things."

"You certainly do," Fenris responded, a dark eyebrow raised. "All of this is interesting, but what does it mean for me?"

"I believe returning to Seheron might help you to remember what you have forgotten. I am unsure why you lost the memory, although the pain of the process might have something to do with it. And why your hair is white. If this is the case, it will likely be easier to retrieve your memories than if it is a byproduct of the process. Moreover, I believe that speaking with your sister will likely help also."

"I sent her away," he responded, eying Dagna as if he wholly expected her next response.

"And I told her to stay," she offered, waiting for him to berate her.

He said nothing, looking away from her as she continued.

"If you wish to remember your past, I believe she is key. I think, if nothing else, she can tell us exactly where you are from so that we might find it."

"And what if I do not wish to remember?"

"Then she can be a part of your future."

"I want nothing from her."

"Yet."

"This is not an argument you will win, dwarf."

"As you say, elf," Dagna responded, smiling at him. His eyes held hers for a long, silent moment before he huffed and conceded. "On the subject of your memories, I have a theory as to why you remember them with me."

"Oh? Do tell."

"You will not like it." She hesitated slightly, taking a long drink of the wine before settling it back in her lap. "Have you heard the expression 'home is where the heart is'?"

"Perhaps, once or twice."

"It is a silly, if effective, way to explain what I believe happened. You were happy with me. Truly happy – so much so that you let yourself be comfortable, if even for the brief time we were together. This happiness represents what it is to be home. It is not the place that grants you the memories, but your mind."

"So we do not have to travel to Seheron to discover my past?"

Dagna smiled at the 'we', especially as it came out entirely without thought from Fenris. "Perhaps not, no. It depends entirely on how receptive you are to the emotions you feel."

"Does this mean that I will always remember when we are together?"

"Likely, yes. I believe, too, that my blood has something to do with it. Much like the way my body absorbs the healing magic of mages and reacts to healing potions, I believe that it affects your lyrium. It likely would not react the same way with someone else – say, Isabela." Dagna prodded him with her words, wanting a reaction to her suggestion.

"We will never know that for certain," Fenris responded, taking the bottle from her lap. "As there has been no other and there will not be. With that knowledge, there must be a way for us to continue our…relationship."

"Either you must learn how to access your memories, forget them entirely, or…"

"Or?"

"…or you must stop caring for me. Stop trusting me." Dagna frowned, taking the bottle back from him. It was only half gone, despite their attempts. Her talking had distracted the both of them, it seemed.

"So I must decide whether or not I wish to remember who I once was." His gaze was set forward, passed Dagna. He did not even think of her last statement as an option. He had rid himself of her once and it was the most foolish thing he had ever done, painful memories or not. "Tell me more of this golem theory."

"I'm not sure what is left to tell."

"Do you have any thoughts on the process?"

Dagna shook her head, "Unfortunately, I have not been able to figure it out yet. There is a golem in Kirkwall but I have not been able to meet it yet. I am unsure as to whether or not it would answer my questions, or even be able to. What I know of the process is quite limited. From what I was able to glean, the process of becoming a golem is quite painful. They…" She frowned deeply, "it is unpleasant."

"I would like to know, Dagna."

With a sigh and another drink, she finally relinquished the bottle to Fenris to speak. "They would put the dwarf inside of a suit of armor, either stone or metal depending, and then pour…then pour the molten lyrium inside." Dagna shivered and Fenris held her a little tighter, waiting for her to continue. "I imagine…my best guess as to what happened to you is similar. That Danarius, if he is the one that made you this way, had created a sort of…suit for you, with the lines of your branding indented, and poured the lyrium there. I believe it was glass, or some clear stone – perhaps diamond? – as it remains on your skin. Raw lyrium does not look like this. I didn't realize that until Sandal gave me a piece of something similar with lyrium inside of it. For all the time I spent around it in Orzammar, the whole concept escaped me. It made me realize that the lyrium brandings on you are encased in  _something_ , that it is not just lyrium I touch when I touch them."

"How does it…" Fenris began, struck for a moment. He let out a breath and looked at Dagna, "How does it not break?"

"The lyrium. Which is also why it moves with your skin as it does. The magical properties of the lyrium made the casing part of your body as much as your skin or your bones."

"There is no undoing this?" he growled, his eyes glaring at the lines on the back of his hand.

"I do not know. Shale has apparently gone to Tevinter with a mage in an attempt to find out of a reversal of the process is possible. To my knowledge, they have not been able to find an answer as of yet. Wynne, the mage, said that she will write to me if they discover anything. I cannot imagine it will be pleasant, if there is any option."

"What choice do I have, if there is? This life is…"

"The life you have," Dagna finished for him and lifted a hand, laying her palm gently against his cheek. "You are a free man, as much as any man can be. You are no longer a slave to your dead master and you must not be a slave to your own mind, either."

Fenris stiffened beneath her and his immediate reaction was to recoil from her. When he lifted his hand to hers, he intended to remove it. However, looking into her eyes that so reminded him of the night sky, his hand covered hers and he let out a sigh, closing his eyes.

"Lyrium or no, I will be at your side as long as you will have me, Fenris," Dagna murmured, closing her eyes and resting her forehead gently against his. Their hands left his cheek, still together as they settled atop her lap.

"Will you still find me interesting?" he smiled weakly, Dagna able to see it as they both sat back a little.

"Until the end of forever, Fenris," she responded in the affirmative, squeezing his hand gently. "If not a little infuriating."

"I have something to ask of you, Dagna."

"Just the one thing?" she laughed a little and, much to her pleasure, he smiled.

"If we find that it is not necessary to return to Seheron for my memories," he turned, watching her face as he spoke, "might you accompany me for pleasure?"

"To the ends of the earth, Fenris."

And he thought she might be telling the truth, his odd little dwarf. He knew that she could not completely forgive him, not so easily. As kind and good as she was, he had hurt her. He did not deserve her forgiveness, but he would accept anything and everything she gave him. He did not complain when she looked at him as though he might disappear any second. He did not complain when she held herself close to him, curled in his lap as if afraid to stand. He did not complain when she kissed him - certainly not. And he did not complain when she asked him to let her stay that night, nor would he ever.


End file.
